Once upon a time, a trip on the bus was my idea of a good time. It was something of a treat. Perhaps because it usually meant going somewhere awesome, like school camp!
Going on the bus meant not having to wear a seatbelt, which to my un-rebellious ten-year-old-self, was the epitome of being cool. I was never fortunate enough to have a space on the back seat, that was always wordlessly reserved for the "popular kids". I was just happy to have a pal next to me who I could share my packed lunch with. After we fought for the window seat of course.
Now though, like so many childhood experiences, bus trips seem to have lost their glorious appeal. Buses in the real world are nothing short of horrendous. An unfortunate, but necessary experience that comes alongside being a university student.
Buses almost NEVER arrive at the preconceived time. They trick you into believing they will be, with their strict timetables and 'live-time' displays. Yet nine times out of ten, I find myself waiting for an overdue bus. (In the shack they call a bus shelter, yet it fails to shield anyone from the pouring rain) Or else running to catch it as it cruises by, ahead of schedule.
In the case of the latter, I find myself running like a madwoman, arms flailing, to arrive on board sweaty and puffing. Smiling at the driver is rarely greeted with a warm welcome. Instead they barely make eye contact, and start driving off before I even come close to sitting down! With a jolt, I make my unsteady way to the nearest vacant seat, probably unknowingly molesting people with my bulky handbag.
If the bus is full, it's even worse. All the good poles are always taken, people cling to them like they're actual gold, and glare when you get close. Like overly territorial dogs.
Somehow, I always end up squashed against the back door. Then I worry because the peeling sticker above my head says "please do not stand in the doorway". And I have to keep sucking in, so that people can squeeze past me into the freedom of the outside world. It's all very stressful.
My palms are sweating so much by this point that I struggle to hold my grip. Buses have only two temperatures. Sweltering to the point where you feel as though you're drowning in other people's sweat, OR so chilly that you end up looking enviously at the creepy guy in the trench coat.
Anyway, it's about now that I start longing for the plush upholstery and air conditioning that personal automobiles offer. Seatbelts too. Being strapped in is no longer a hindrance in my mind, more like a privilege.
When I get off I feel like every muscle in my body's had a workout. What with holding myself so tensely, trying not to knock a stranger as the bus jostles me around unceremoniously.
Even if you are lucky enough to get a seat, the journey is still generally an uncomfortable one. You still get thrown about in your seatbelt-less seat.
I always consider it a delight if I last the entire ride without having to sit next to somebody. But more often than not, despite keeping my head down and praying for them to sit elsewhere, I end up sharing my personal space with an undesirable stranger. Different offenses include, bad breath, body odour and unnecessarily heavy breathing.
Then there are those commuters who are simply too large for the bus seats, so you end up either squished against the grimy window, or sharing a cosy snuggle with the newcomer.
Perhaps the worst of all though, are ones who are just dying for good friendly chat. You can spot them as soon as they board the bus. Overly enthusiastic, they scan the passengers, looking for victims. Then they sit down and stare at you for a while, which you sense so therefore offer a polite smile. Big mistake. You've now welcomed the conversation. Your new companion will want to know your life story, and in turn, subject you to theirs. I'm sorry, but I don't have room in my pessimistic life for this type of mindless banter. Then I worry, perhaps I shouldn't be so close-minded and selfish. But now is not the time for deep personal reflection.
Of course, there are those people who place their bag on the vacant seat next to them, clearly trying to repel any seat-seeking people. Nothing says "piss off" more clearly. But I always feel bad doing that. Maybe because one day I left my backpack beside me, and the bus filled up without my knowledge. Next thing I knew, a middle-aged woman was throwing my bag (laden with books, ouch) at my head because I was clogging up the only vacant seat. She was less than impressed. Even more so when I had to clamber over her to exit at my stop. Sorry lady. But needless to say, I am now a bag-on-lap kind of passenger.
You may be thinking, if I hate it so much, why do it? Why not just travel in style and comfort behind the wheel of a car? Well, for one thing, my falling-apart Mitsubishi is far from being stylish. And secondly, paying for parking is a luxury I can't afford to splurge on.
There is admittedly something quite nice about getting somewhere without having to worry about traffic. Plus there's never a dull moment when it comes to the daily commute, evidently.
No comments:
Post a Comment