One of these days I’ll get on that bus and go ‘Baahhh’ at the driver. Like sheep, we herd ourselves into a tin can every morning
No one but no one asks why is the bloody thing late , or where was the last service?
Just get on
I have rules about what folks can do when I’m on the bus.
You may not stand too near me, or swing around with your bags, so that I get biffed in the face.
Go eat your breakfast somewhere else.
Us Brits like to stew in silence: it’s a tradition that anyone standing, does not move down the gangway. Nope.
The blokes like to lean against the rail, being macho and a bloody nuisance, as no one can get past them and their cruddy backpacks..
Of course when a Yank got on, and found no standing room, all that changed.
“Will you guys all move down the bus?”
There was a sort of multiple shuffle and lots of unspoken resentment.
Blokes are the worst, they have to talk loudly, spread themselves over several places, and they like to rest their size 12’s on the opposite seat
Not when I get on, they don’t.
And to the lady who sat behind me, talking for the entire journey about the delights of meditation and lavender oil
Drink the stuff , meditate, whatever.
Either way, we all get some peace.
Yep
3 comments:
I was on a bus once. It was in the '70's when I was an art student.
It was after a party thrown by a geezer called Rodger McPhail - he was the guy who painted the Famous Grouse bird on the front of..... Famous Grouse whisky (he gets a royalty on every bottle sold). He was/is a nutter - but he is also the most brilliantly talented artist I have ever seen. His water colours are fantastic - the way he can lat down a wash in seconds is awesome.... Check him out on Google.... I went to art college with him - and towards the end of the course, he threw a big party. He thought it would be a bit of a wheeze to mix some punch. Being both brilliant and a nutter, he mixed the punch as strong and as 100% pure alchohol....
Everything was fine til I got outside... Then my eyes went. I couldn't see a bloody thing. A bus came and I got on. By pure chance, it was my bus. As we trolled along my guts were churning - and I began to feel bloody awful. I couldn't see, my eyes were streaming away like a kind of stigmata, I was also as pissed as a fart, and hadn't a clue where the hell I was. Weird really, because inside I was still sober - I just couldn't control anything.
I slobbed all over some man as I told him to tell me when my stop had come. He duly told me and I rushed down the stairs..... just as my stomach was going into 'violent venting' mode....
I stood there waiting, willing for the doors to open...... And they did as we slowed into the bus lay by. Unfortunately, by then, my brain had decided that the stuff in my stomach shouldn't be there and thought it should get rid, soonest....
It was sort of poetic. A choreographed symphony of timing and synchopation.... As the auto doors swished open, I puked. The sort of puke that David Whalliams does on little Britain. As the doors opened, all the waiting passengers at the bus stop had their shoes, trousers, dresses pebble dashed with a turbo stream of 'punch-puke'... I staggered past them and attempted to walk the 50 yards to our house. Four hours later and I'm looking at the stars from a neighbour's garden (having fallen through the hedge some 3 hours, 55 minutes earlier). Five hours later and I'm at our front door, trying to find the key hole. Success! I open the door and fall through.
Unfortunately, my mum woke up (her Dad was an alcho' and so was a bit sensitive)... She beat the crap out of me, she kicked me black and blue because I was pissed.....
I couldn't eat anything for 3 days - the punch episode almost killed me - and my best penny collar shirt and kipper tie combo was ruined!...... Those were the days...
Oh well Alfie, you obviously left your mark on the bus. Did they ban you after that?
lemme 'splain some of this from my long painful public transport experience.
There is a Law of Busses, by which a minimum number of one of the following has to be on each bus, or it won't be authorised to leave the depot:
1 nonstop mobile phone talker
1 lively mini-monster (child to the pc section) which has a choice of alternatively yelling or prattling non-stop + 1 professional mother filling with bright chatter the pauses when the mm takes a breath
1 apple cruncher (alternatively 1 person with rustly cookie bag from which never more than one cookie is to be extracted at a given time, to the last cookie)
1 dermined newspaper rustler
1 person with bad headcold (alternatively 1 smelly person)
1x 2 persons (male or female) maintaining non-stop conversation which may be followed clearly at both ends of bus.
And you were wondering why the bus always arrives full?
Btw, there is a related Law of Trains, by which one person or unit answering aforementioned description is required to be present in every train wagon, so save you having to ponder a change of seat, encouraging you to just grit your teeth and grin and bear it.
Post a Comment