Magic bus? I’m now a daydream believer
Left carless, the shift to public transport yields unexpected joys
I’ve always been a massive fan of public transport. In theory, that is. I never actually used it. Hell no, I’d rather bite off my own elbow. But, recently, the clockwork of my car’s gearbox turned into chaos and I found myself meandering to the bus stop.
It had been 20 years since I’d been on a bus. Did they have Eftpos? They must have Eftpos. They didn’t have Eftpos. You need a special card or cash. Those of you under the age of 25 won’t know what cash is, but it used to be a common means of paying for things in the days when we had bank robbers.
My ignorance didn’t end there. I thought the bus was only used by school children, the desperately poor, and the desperately old. How wrong I was. It’s also used by businessmen who’ve been busted for drink-driving and the mentally unhinged.
As I got off the bus, I said to the driver: “See ya later, mate”, but it was just an instinct. I was actually thinking: “I would rather set myself on fire than get on this bus again.”
The next day I worked from home
to avoid repeating the indignity. I must have been working very hard because I didn’t get my car fixed. A day later I was back on the bus. And then the day after that. And the day after that. Something unexpected was happening. I was enjoying it.
I was learning that among the infirm, the pimple-ridden, and the unwashed there are others who frequent the bus: the reader, the musician, the young couples playing with each other’s hair, the mums with young kids and not enough arms, you name it, the bus has it.
It’s like the gods created buses as a Petri dish so all of humanity could be examined in one spot.
And there is loveliness on the bus. One by one, passengers thank the driver as they disembark as if they never got the memo that manners are a thing of the past.
It’s an impossible joy to see young kids do it: “Fank you,” they say.
One morning I was strolling down the street to catch the bus when it rushed up behind me. As it went past, it jerked toward the curb and pulled up. The driver recognised me and figured I was heading to the bus stop. I gushed at his kindness, but he just smiled like it was no big deal because bus drivers are better people than the rest of us.
Except if someone plays up. Then they bark angrily into the rear-view mirror and everybody feels afraid and falls silent.
And regardless of how politely you pose the question, they will never let you have a turn behind the wheel. Nor will they drive you though McDonald’s — even if you promise to buy enough for everybody. But I don’t blame the drivers; those are the rules made up by the squares in management.
Catching the bus is easier than it used to be. There are apps that show
It’s like the gods created buses as a Petri dish so all of humanity could be examined in one spot.
the bus moving from stop to stop. Getting off is harder. Early on I suffered buzzer anxiety. I’d often pushed the buzzer too soon — mostly because I had no idea what I was doing but also because I liked pushing the buzzer.
And twice I’ve missed my stop because I’ve been daydreaming or listening to people’s conversations. Some call that snooping; I call it sociology.
I’ve learned enormous amounts about teenaged kids. I’m now terrified about the future but I know who Demi Lovato is.
One morning a stumpy woman with a mind made entirely of marbles decided to talk to anyone who would listen — as well as anyone who wouldn’t.
Sitting next to her was a desperately polite Asian schoolgirl, for whom English was a second language. The schoolgirl nodded and smiled while being subjected to a barrage of information pertaining to a number of Australians Stumpy didn’t like and a conversion to our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. I contemplated cutting my ears off.
But, overall, the bus is a place where you relax, unencumbered by the headaches of traffic. As a man constantly on the brink of road rage, that’s a real plus.
Through the window you see the quirks and the crevasses of the city; those details lost to drivers.
You can prepare for work or finish off some work or just unwind on the way home from work. You can have a few drinks after work and not worry about limits.
You can also write a newspaper column on the bus.
I’d love to go on, there really is a lot more to say. But, you guessed it, this is my stop.