Joyride?
The bus was typically crammed with passengers on the journey home last Thursday. It was dark and raining hard outside. The 20 minute trip began as usual – a bit of traffic to start and then, once clear of the High Street and past the third set of traffic lights, we passengers, a typical mix of races, colours, ages, shapes and sizes, were carried, steadily and safely by our driver, towards our chosen stops. Among us: a lady (possibly Thai) with her happily contented baby in a pram; a lady who looked slightly agitated and another lady, possibly Nigerian, looking fabulous, really fabulous. She was wearing a long emerald green dress and an emerald green turban secured with a diamante brooch – not quite sure when her stop was, she was being helped with directions by a lady sitting behind her, possibly Polish, young, with bright orange hair. As we were turning the corner at the foot of the hill the bus stopped suddenly – nothing unusual in that – probably a car or another bus coming down the hill which invariably only has room for “up” traffic or “down” traffic on account of the number of cars parked on both sides of the road. It’s a tricky part of the journey but drivers usually show patience and courtesy so it kind of works.
But not today – no, a land rover and a white van, travelling in opposite directions, were nose to nose blocking the road and neither was going to give way, so, no traffic could go up and no traffic could go down. We were stuck! Five minutes passed and five minutes more and still neither driver would give way. Some people got off the bus and braved the weather but most of us remained – there was a good distance to go and it was still raining hard.
Five more minutes passed and still neither driver would give way but something else happened – we passengers started chatting about the situation, we all laughed and joked together, we chatted some more, about the fabulous lady’s hope of reaching her destination, the agitated lady “just desperate for a fag” the contented baby teetering on the edge of discontent – another five minutes passed but we barely noticed. Finally, after 20 minutes or more, – we had lost track of time – the land rover reversed back down the hill and we continued on our way. As passengers reached their stops there were fond goodbyes and, as a now smiling and slightly less “agitated lady” got off the bus someone affectionately called “enjoy your fag luv! “and she smiled and waved, and the other passengers waved back.
