Yesterday’s bus driver endeared himself to me almost as soon as the bus pulled up.
Obviously, I’m lying through my teeth. Yesterday’s bus driver was an absolute cock womble from start to finish.
It started with him driving past our bus stop, which is always a good sign. Now, there were about four of us in the stop and – in the bus driver’s weak and flimsy defence – I will point out that the woman at the front of the queue made no sort of movement whatsoever which indicated that she had any interest in the bus that was coming.
Aside from, you know, it being the only bus that comes along that road and her being stood at the bus stop.
So he stopped a little bit past the stop and did that universal gesture that drivers do which means “not my fault” where they raise their hands in exasperation at the situation they find themselves on.
We then boarded. The woman and driver exchanged some words – he started on her about not indicating that she wanted the bus and she laid into him about it being the only bus on the road so obviously she wanted it. And it was all lovely and awkward.
Again, in his flimsy defence, I do think you should still waft your arm out to indicate some sort of interest in a bus stopping for you equally, when you’re the only bus on a route and there are people at a bus stop it’s pretty much a no brainer.
When it got to my turn, I asked for a return ticket and indicated I wanted to pay by card. And he sighed. Insanely loudly. Like I was putting him out. If anything I’m making his job easier. Less change to count. No need to give me any change. All he has to do is press one more button on his ticket machine and it’s done.
There were murmurs around the bus about the driver being a bit of an arse throughout the journey. But that might have been because he was driving the bus like he stole it, to use a phrase that other people use. He was speeding along like there was a bomb on the bus and Dennis Hopper was about to give him a pop quiz, hotshot.
It became clear that we were probably his last run of the day. There was every chance he was coming off shift when we reached the bus station. That doesn’t excuse him being a bellend in the slightest, though. The reason I say it became clear is he started to sort out his change tray, which is a classic sign of a driver changing buses. He started to neaten it up as we drove – at speed, remember. Nothing fills you with more of a feeling of impending doom than a bus driver speeding along while he lines all his pound coins up.
He unclipped his change tray from the door/ticket machine/console wherever it was hooked and placed it somewhere on the dash of his cab.
Still at speed.
And essentially fired the tray into the doorway of the bus by the power of centrifugal force.
It went from cab to door, loudly, and then fell to the floor rattling about. Sadly it didn’t burst open on its travels. I’m gutted the doors weren’t open when it happened and it didn’t go sailing into the traffic in the filter lane to the left.
And yet after all that crap, I still said “Thanks” when I got off the bus.
Sometimes Britishness sucks.