The Last Bus Home

I don’t know if it was anything to do with the warm weather or because the football had been on tonight, but as I left work this evening and made my way to the bus stop for the (amazingly empty) last bus home there were a lot of people sitting on steps having heart-to-heart discussions with other people.

But then there was also a very loud man outside the Head Of Steam pub who prefaced every sentence with “Hey! Hey!” before issuing forth wisdom about everything. Every topic. He knew it. There was nothing he didn’t know. Apart from how to start a sentence without saying “Hey! Hey!”

And I got to stand in a bus shelter and watch a man who, I assume almost entirely correctly, was pissed off his nut and spent ten minutes trying to put down a bottle of orange, such as you would get at McDonalds, without it falling over.

Ten minutes.

I have seen people actually flip bottles of water so they stand up in less time than this one man took to stand up a bottle near his feet. And each time it fell over and he leant to pick it up, the statistical chance of him toppling forward and face planting the pavement increased.

Sadly not to 100%.

Because I am not that lucky.

And because if it had have happened I might have felt obligated to do something, in which case I would have missed my bus because I was busy helping a man with a bleeding face. But because he was drunk he’d have just been saying “I’m alright, I’m alright” despite the blood pouring from his hypothetical wounds.

And then, when I was finally on the bus a young baby-sized child (I know, 11pm at night. Responsible parenting to the end, my friends) pulled an earing out of the ear of the woman who was holding it and through it down the bus. Not pulled it out in a ripping through the flesh bitch-fight kind of way. Just pulling it so the butterfly came off the other side. And then throwing it. It was amazing.

It’s been a while since I came home on the last bus. I don’t remember it being this fun.