(This may be classed as a bit of a rant on society.)
I take a lot of buses to get various places because I don’t drive. I don’t drive because I know for a FACT that I’ll crash and die a painful death. It’s just the way it is, I know these things. So, I have to put up with various types of bus creeps almost every day of my life because I’m too lazy to just walk in to Dublin’s city center (I say while complaining of chronic weight gain).
1. Tired Junkies
I have been the victim of TWO grown men, off their tits on some illegal substance, falling asleep on my unsuspecting shoulder. I witness them trying to lift their feet on to the bus, I see them mumbling and fumbling for bus change and I know they’re going to sit their ADIDAS tracksuit wearing selves right next to me. Maybe I just have a face that looks inviting to heroin addicts? Maybe looking at my face gives them the same high as sweet lady H does. I try my best to blend in with the bus, avoiding eye contact, wearing a horrible look on my face, but it doesn’t work.
Five minutes later I’m trapped between a bus wall and a sleeping junkie on my shoulder, while the rest of the bus looks on, and I’m too scared to give him a nudge, thinking a junkie in a deep sleep is the same as a sleepwalker. Wake ‘em up and they get violent. Despite the junkies friend attempting to keep him awake, he carries on snoozing, blissfully unaware that I’ve already murdered him viciously 50 times in my head.
The ordeal ends when my stop approaches and I wish I could say it hasn’t happened since. It has, although the second time he managed to snap himself out of his bus nap every few seconds.
I’m one of those people you see on a bus reading away, and seemingly oblivious to everything else that’s happening around me. I can tell you now that I’m probably even more aware of the people around me on a bus when I’m reading. A bit of hushed nattering is fine, buses are never really noisy. Except when certain types of loud-mouths hop on. This morning, reading up the top of the bus, all was quiet and I was left alone. Until two girls came upstairs, sat in the seats in front of me and of all the empty seats behind me they chose these two and talked, and talked and talked as loud as they could.
If it’s not them it’s loud old people chatting about people they know dying or that have died. What is it with old people and chatting about death? It’s the last thing I’d want to be brought up if I was as old as some of these purple-rinsed OAPs.If it’s not the golden oldies it’s the teenage boys jumping around upstairs, acting like complete idiots and making the rest of us feel uncomfortable.
Solution: Just shut the fuck up.
There’s a smell unique to old people. It’s a mix of dust trapped in wrinkles, sweat and a faint whiff of urine. First off, I can’t bare the smell sometimes especially on a packed bus, and even worse still when they sit beside me. Not all old people smell, just some of them, badly. Alright, some might not be able to wash as frequently due to stiff joints and that, but there’s no excuse for some. At what point did they give up on good hygiene? What age did they decide it was alright to stop washing? Just cover it up with some Febreeze or a heavy perfume. Not only do they smell, sometimes they’re rude. Telling people to get up, thinking they own the bus. You’re old, you’re not royalty.
An angry bus driver will take all his shit out on you. I got thrown off a bus before for handing back sass that the driver deserved. I’ve always looked slightly older then I am, and one day the driver gave out to me for not paying the right fare because he thought I was older. Two seconds later the bus jerked to stop and i was told to get off the bus. Probably because I called him a ‘f*cking dickhead’. Dickhead.
I know some genuinely lovely bus drivers that greet everyone with smiles and lovely comments but there’s some that open the doors and look at you like they’d prefer you under the bus than on it. These bus drivers can suck on it. My way of getting back at ‘em? They receive no ‘Thank you’ from me as I step off. I hope my lack of appreciation makes them cry themselves to sleep at night.
No one asked you to be a bus driver or a prick. That’s all you buddy.
If anyone did bother to read this, I hope you can see where I’m coming from and maybe you’ve been a victim of horrible bus personalities too so you can sympathize with me.