Thursday, October 12, 2006

And the correct answer is?

2:45pm. Board the no. 11 bus. The driver hardly seems to notice me and grunts what I think is a response to my cheery hello. (Although maybe it’s indigestion.) The bus is remarkably empty for the time of day. In fact there is no-one else on the lower deck. Great choice of seats. Notice that it is remarkably clean for a number 11. In fact it seems like the indigestion-laden driver had just driven the pristine vehicle out off an Alexander Bus showroom.

I love it when you’ve a choice of seats. I never sit in the same place twice, if I can help it. But given a choice, I do like to sit around the point of the rear axle. Too far back or too far forward is dangerous for a girl prone to travel sickness. You get thrown around like a rag doll.

A dishevelled elderly man boards clutching something that looks suspiciously like a whiskey bottle in a brown paper bag. I try not to make eye contact. Can’t tell if he is drunk or if his staggering is due to the driver’s erratic driving. (He probably has a packet of Rennies back at the depot.)(I mean the driver, of course. The drunk probably has a couple of bottles back at the depot.)

Like I was, the new passenger is spoiled for choice given the n-1 clean, new seats available He walks past every one. And sits far too close to me. Then suddenly and theatrically he gets up and in a boozy, strung out way asks if I mind he sits here?
Mmmm. Don’t you just hate that.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Seen it so many times it defies belief.

The poor girl in question (normally very young and on her own) looks like she's going to cry out for help. One time I was going to intervene by pretending to be a friend, the girl in question looked so uncomfortable but he got off the bus before I got down there.

12:03 a.m., October 13, 2006  

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