The comedy of public transport

The bus is coming, I get organised - see the feeble old man who is also waiting for the bus drop his walking stick so go over and pick it up for him before boarding the bus.

I get on the bus. Because I'm aware there is a frail person who will need the priority seating I scan the seats as I get on trying to decide where to sit.

The nearest seat is one of those fold out numbers, that puts you facing toward everyone else on the bus. Personally, I don't mind these seats but a lot of people avoid them because they make them feel self conscious. I think that the old man *might* want this seat on account of it being the closest seat. On the other hand, a lot of people don't find the fold out seats secure and fall off of them around corners and such (I don't get it but it does happen, I've seen it).

The next nearest seat is directly across from the fold out seat, facing toward the front and is a more secure seat so I figure the man might want that one instead of the fold out number, so I rule that out mentally and scan for another seat.

My eyes meet temporarily with the person sitting across from the bucket seat and he (with some energy) moves across to the window indicating the seat next to him. I shrug, say thanks and sit down, take out my book and start reading.

His leg presses against mine. Eeeeeeeeeeek! Well, that's what my brain says. I think I could possibly be imagining things. Maybe he just needs space. I focus more firmly on my book, slightly turn my body away so it's leaning a little toward the aisle and decide so long as his hands don't venture in my direction, I'll continue to ignore him. If the hands come my way, however, I'll loudly tell him to keep his hormones under control.

Again, his leg firmly presses against mind. My brain goes in to a whole dialogue about this, while externally I pretend to read my book. I can't wait for this bus trip to be over. Press. Easing off of the leg. Longer Press. Shudder from me. Pretend to read, pretend to read. At least he's not doing anything else or trying to make conversation. His leg eased off and he moved it away, more toward the window.

Hah! Well that thought came a little too soon.

"Ahmrf Ewmrf Wrmrf"

I look up from my book, there's a lot of tourists in town and perhaps he's asking where to get off the bus or something, "Pardon?" I say, looking at him.

"Ahmrf Ewmrf Wrmrf".

Peeeeeeyoooooooooooooou. I can actually taste the garlic that I can smell, among other not so definable smells - but being the polite and helpful soul I sometimes am, I keep my face controlled and say, "Sorry? I didn't understand".

"On your way to work?", he says in a heavy accent.

My brain goes back to it's internal panicked dialogue. Oh No! I know where this is going. Stop him. Stop him now. Don't let this conversation go on.

"Yes." There. Short and unencouraging. A lie, I'm currently unemployed. But I believe a white and necessary one. To help this message a long I meaningfully go back to reading my book. The 'Nope, I don't want to chat to strangers on the bus today - or anyone for that matter' sign is up. I am very engrossed in my book. The message is clear.

Or not.

"Do you have a husband?"

Mentally - "WHAT?!"

Verbally, barely glancing up from my book, a short, non-encouraging "No."

Go back to reading. Anti-social. Slighly raise the book this time to indicate that the story is *very* good and I don't want to be interrupted - especially when I'm pretending to read. And, I figure, it's always much worse if you're overly blunt (some might call it rude)... see, I *have* given that a go in the past and it's ended up pretty ugly and creates a much bigger scene and generally ends up no better. And really, being called a slut by strangers is something I like to save for a few special times a year.

Does he get my anti-social message? No. Nup. Not at all.

"Do you have children?"

More internal 'Oh grudding' occurs. There's even some internal screaming at his persistance. I'm almost there.

"No." - still unencouraging.

Back to reading. He surprisingly gets the hint and doesn't ask any more questions. My stop appears. 'Thank grud!' I think internally, pack up my book and start to rise (this man had made no signs he was getting off at the stop).

"Do you want to grab a coffee?"

WHAT THE #@%$###$%!!

"No. I must go to work. Thanks. Bye." (Yeah... I'm off to the job I don't have. Uh-huh. BYE!)

Get off bus shaking my head - it's something about me, I know. It's happened to me walking along the street, not just once, but several times - though I think I could still use my fingers to count. It's happened in taxis (I think it's not right that taxi drivers ask their paying customers such shite). Once, I even had someone run up to me and offer me a massage. Despite really liking massage, I felt compelled to decline the offer.

I think I need to adopt the general demeanor of a friend of mine. He doesn't look like the person you'd stop (well, not without first thinking carefully) for inane chitter-chat. Uh-huh. Sure, he's said sometimes people come up to him and ask to score drugs, which is a little disturbing, but surely it's got to be better. The dialogue would go something like, "Can I score some drugs, man?". "Sorry, don't have any". And off they go. They wouldn't keep persisting. You don't have what they want. They get that. I don't have what these strangers want (and I emphasis the strange) - well, I may have what they want, but I ain't sharing it with them so why don't they get the message and go off in pursuit of other pastures... why do they feel compelled to persist.

Next time, I'll tell you about the time I was spat at by a Chistian or perhaps the time I was followed by a man in a wheelchair calling me every name under the sun... who knows?!

Labels: Transport

Posted by grudknows : Wednesday, March 15, 2006
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