Bus, Stop.

I get two buses everyday to work. Four a day. Twenty a week. When I look at it this way it is no wonder why I have such blog worthy bus anecdotes to write about. If I’m being completely honest I don’t really like buses. I’m not one of those transport snobs, honestly I’m not, give me a train journey, or the simple lack of comfort from easy jet and I’m fine. But buses, well they are, I don’t quite know how to put it politely so I won’t, they are dirty, hot, perhaps steaming, cauldrons of people, and all sorts of people, always lots of people.

I travel in the rush hour zones. I become increasingly in contact with those who answer ‘no’ to the ‘are you a morning person?’ question. I’m no spring chicken in the morning and I have cut out coffee with my breakfast, so that I can drink more at work, thus meaning I am barely functioning correctly, but I do look people in the eyes. I would nod good morning to those around me, desperately trying to grasp a sense of the ‘old days’ on ye’ buses, I never put my bag on the seat as a deterrent to new passengers. I’m not eager for the company but I try to make the morning run smoothly, for everyone.

Today I was a little unfortunate as my seat mate decided he would persist holding his iPad with extended elbows, compromising half my seat. I didn’t mind…trying not to let things bother me I let it slide over the top of my head. Like the morning mist his elbows would soon be gone, I wouldn’t care for them. More people started getting on, I realised my position meant that every leg that walked past would graze my left arm. I had to wiggle, I had to let him know via my wiggle of my discomfort, that I needed more room. He didn’t get the hint and I’m almost certain he turned his iPad up in an attempt to drown out my poor attempts at trying to communicate through the medium of a wiggle, to “move over, get your elbows out my face!” Maybe next time I’ll ask him politely, then I wouldn’t have a grazed by arm and a bad back.

The posture of the half seat isn’t one I’d recommend .

2 thoughts on “Bus, Stop.

  1. It’s exhausting. I once (not politely, I admit) told a man on the NYC subway to close his bloody legs — as usual, (male), taking up way too much room. He attacked me and no one helped. I still ask, but now with a HUGE smile and an insistent tone. People will move and they know they’re wrong.

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