Look, I get it. A bus timetable isn’t a binding contract or anything but I’d dearly appreciate it if the sodding drivers would stop fart-arsing me around. I’m convinced they’ve all conspired against me. How else would you explain what’s happening here?
Seriously, whenever I’m early, they’re late. Whenever I’m on time, they’re early. Whenever I’m late, they’re on time. Is this some kind of joke? Are their contrary little minds jacked into one central hive mentality decreeing that this Darwin chap mustn’t be allowed to get anywhere stress-free ever? How do they even know when I’m at the damn stop? CCTV? No, there isn’t any CCTV. Well, as far as I can see anyway…
I feel like a right goose as I stand here trying to type on my mobile phone, the cars whizzing past my self-conscious self. This godawful touch keyboard! Was it made for human beings or fucking pixies? Wouldn’t you think the manufacturer could have included a stylus or something? Of course you would. So would I. But they’re not us. They don’t consider the needs of us mere mortals. That’s not what they do. We pay for what we get and nothing more. Frankly, it’s a First World privilege to be using our giant, stubby forefingers to thwack clumsy smears of not-quite-predictive text all over our tiny screens, and they know it. We all know it. My white middle-class guilt is quite adept at making me shut up and put up with all kinds of shit.
How the hell is ‘contrary’ anything like ‘dairy’?
And suddenly I’m off thinking about American highways. The other day, Calix was telling me that they’re paved with an odd mix of stuff: asphalt, recycled tyres, and hospital waste. Why is that factoid popping into my head unbidden? Is it because I’m standing on the side of a busy road, watching a Vespa narrowly miss a Bond lookalike? She loves bringing up weird shit like this. I usually do my best bobblehead impression, nodding along to whatever Calix says, and wondering if these alleged ‘factoids’ are even halfway true.
I should text her. Let her know I’m going to be late. Ah, sod it. She’ll find out I’m late when I get there. Tumours, severed limbs, other bodily organs… bus. I guess a lot of Americans splat on highways at any given opportunity, eager to donate their good selves to the advancement of the automobile. It’s the circle of life, baby. All terribly pointless and wasteful. Thank god for America. Thank god I don’t live there.
Oh, shit! Was that the bus? Fuck! Shit!
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018
unbolt me 
You really have captured the horror of public transport. Seems to go well with the idea of body parts melded into the road. Is this an urban legend? It sounds like something from a scary American horror movie.
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I have to say that I really am leaning towards it being urban legend. I mean, BODY PARTS? That’s quite macabre. Hee hee. 😛
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I ride it all the time and know why the bus is often late or early. The bus is early when there are several stops with no boarders or exiters and thusly no reason for the bus to stop. It puts the bus ahead od schedule. Wheel chair riders getting on or off can slow the bus down just as much. The bus is like the wheel of Dharma, you dance the position that you are in.
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You make some pretty compelling arguments there, Pat. Thanks so much for reading and sharing! Much appreciated!
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HahahA. It’s not that bad here, but I get your point. Great read!
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Yeah, I think there’s a lot to like about America, truth be told. Thank you for reading, sir!
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That brightened up my day. I didn’t take a bus. As for predatory text … …
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Hee hee! So glad you enjoyed this, my friend! 😀
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haha, had fun reading your post. your intro is a killer” sodding drivers would stop fart-arsing me around”. better make a sched mate so they won’t toss you around. Or you might end up inhaling something nasty.
I can feel you on this “This godawful touch keyboard! Was it made for human beings or fucking pixies? Wouldn’t you think the manufacturer could have included a stylus or something” I guess some manufacturers have tiny hands. Maybe they’re a bit of a dwarfy figure. 🙂 Great post, cheers!
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Tiny hands? Oh my god! You could be right! Hee hee. Thanks for reading! 😀
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You know what they say about a man with tiny hands…. That he must have a pretty big touch screen. Unless it was a women who designed tiny handset, then she was right! #FakeFeminism
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Hee hee hee hee hee! 😛
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Vespa, not Vesper. I’d try to put a photo on but I’m useless with images.I’ll add it to my blog instead.
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Julie, thank you so much! I’ve made the appropriate correction now. 😀
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Brilliant rant!
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Hee hee! Fanx, Chris! 😉
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You just stay where your at
Do your bus thing while dancing in the fog which is no better or no worser than an obsessiom about living in the USA just remember one more tasty morsel wisdow is knowing that a tomatoe is a fruit knowledge is knowing not to put it fruit salad
You welcome Tony
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Thanks, mate. I knew you’d get where I was coming from. 😀
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I hear you, Brother, i hear you
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Thanks, John. I knew there would be some out there that would understand. 😛
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Yes I do
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Ha ha!! Sounds like we live in the same place! Or buses change routes sporadically too! So, you think your bus is going somewhere, but it turns out that at 3:15 it actually turned into a different bus (????) and you are now going to the other side of the city.. People tell me there are magical places where buses arrive on time, when scheduled and always move in a predictable fashion… MADNESS I SAY!!
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I would love to know where such a mythical place exists. I’d move there in a heartbeat! 😛
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Don’t forget about the invisuble buses… The ones that only exist on your app… Those are the worst…
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Oh my, yes! I hate trying to use any kind of app on my smart phone, truth be told. Using any internet based thing on a tiny screen is… GAAAHHH! 😛
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