Back On The Bus.

Back in early January, 2010,  I posted an article about my adventures on public transport and that soon I would, once again, be behind the wheel of a car.  If you wish to bore yourself silly, here is the link to that blog:   Off The Buses.  I should inform you that the above photo is from then and even though the British summer is crap, it aint quite that crap.

Anyhow, I have been back driving for about six months now.  Yes, I know, I really should get some sleep.  On Wednesday, I had to go into Stoke on Trent from Leek, twice in one day.  Oh, lucky me.  Well this dude could not be bothered to drive into Stoke (the oatcake capital of the universe and where all that really neat pottery and cups and saucers are like made and where people call you 'duck') for a second time in a space of a few hours.
Thus, I decided to brave the wonderful world of bus travel.  I stood at the stop and recollected the previous thrilling experiences that had been endured.  Please see the link in the first paragraph to get a better idea if you have not already done so and then you can bore yourself into a place so monotonous you have this urge to break down and cry in a darkened room.  Right then, let's get this paragraph back on track.  The bus arrived and it stopped to let me on!   This was a great improvement in comparison to the time the driver looked at me, grinned and let out a 'Muttley the dawg' chuckle, as he sped by in his haste to get to the doughnut shop.
I boarded, paid my fair and looked for a seat on a packed bus.  Once again, it appeared that I may have boarded the bus that was going to some Jeremy Kyle audition. (If you live in North America, Jeremy Kyle is the British equivalent of Jerry Springer and rumour has it that Jeremy will be doing a version of his show in America.  Good luck Jeremy!)  'Go on look at these fucking pictures of my baby' said this one articulate young lady to someone I assumed was her friend or another bemused passenger. 'There is no way that arsehole is the kid's dad but I know who is and he's gonna' pay big time..'  And the DNA results reveal.....
On a packed bus there always seems to be the one person who insists on having their groceries parked on the outside seat.  Will they shift their groceries to let you sit down?  Oh no, they're not going to have any old 'riff raff' sit beside them.  You now have a few choices.  You could ask them to kindly shift their precious goods.  You could ask them if they paid for two tickets.   Or, you could take the groceries and smash them on their head and grin with triumphant delight as the egg yolk runs down the face of the dear old lady.
Well, I did get a seat and sat precariously on the two inches of seating the passenger so generously allowed me.   Wow and thanks!   Okay, I was grateful to sit down and desperately clung onto the rail that kept me from falling into the aisle where I would have most likely been trampled on by the folks heading to the Jeremy Kyle show and the dear old lady with the groceries.   Then I heard this snore blasting into my left eardrum. The guy beside me had fallen asleep and was now slumped against my left shoulder.  Awe, how cute.  No, correction, shit!
The bus continued on towards that destination of dreams.  Soon we would be in Stoke!  Then, out the window, I saw the sadder and disturbing sides to life.  Three police cars were blocking the road and off to the side of the pavement lay an old man who appeared to have been beaten up.  We slowly moved on and passed by a group of young people who yelled obscenities at us passengers.  Finally, we were in the heart of town and two cyclists going the wrong way on a one way street, screamed and made rude finger gestures at the driver.  What an eventful ride this had turned out to be.  With much relief, I got off the bus.  Nothing else would happen, right?  Wrong.  At the depot a very loud and angry woman was screaming profanities at this rather startled old fellow.  Sigh....
The return trip back to Leek, 'the Queen of the Moorlands', was uneventful and peaceful.  No packed out bus that might have provided me with the opportunity to gallantly give up my seat to some old lady who would respond by saying, 'Who the hell did you think you are!?  I'm perfectly capable of standing!  How dare you!'    I sat there on a full seat and reflected on the earlier ride.  We have been told to take public transport, do our bit for the planet, relax and enjoy the journey.  I sympathise with those who have no choice but public transport.  That first ride on a bus in about six months made me grateful knowing I have a choice.  I got off the bus, and with my heart racing, headed straight for my car.  I gave it a hug and a kiss.  My neighbours have been giving me strange looks.