On The Bus

On The Bus

Pete had been on the bus for almost an hour now. There were people at every single stop since he had got on. The wheelchair bay and the pram area were full with three prams, The mothers were hanging on to the rails whilst attempting to control not only the screaming children in the prams themselves but there were at least four toddlers squeezed between the mothers and the prams. Other people were hanging on to various railings between the seats. And yet every stop had more awaiting passengers. The few people that did get off at the stops struggled to do so. The bell would ding and “excuses me’s” were given with every effort ladened move towards the front of the bus. Even so, they seldom got to the front before the bus had stopped and the doors were opened. This meant that people waiting at the stop didn't see that passengers were trying to get off and so they just got on. The inevitable bottleneck at the doors ensued every time.
The breath of forty odd people had steamed the windows up. Some of the passengers, usually the younger ones, had sleeve wiped the wet window next them so that they could look out. Several windows showed marks from previous wipes. Coughs echoed throughout the vehicle. Pete was sure that most were from uncovered mouths and that he would come down with something soon. Despite the fact that he despised his job he couldn't afford any time off on the sick. An eight and a half month pregnant wife made sure of that. This would be number three, with Carol anyway. The two with Anne, his ex, he never saw, thanks to Anne. But, they still drained him dry of money, thanks to the support agency. Time off was not an option, he had to work. Someone sneezed. He could almost feel the moist droplets of dispelled breath landing on the back of his neck. God help the folks sitting in front of the nasal perpetrator. Pete felt miserable.
Next stop. More people. Ding. “Excuses me.” People moving and squeezing. One of the mothers with pram and toddler was pinned behind standing passengers moving out of the way of the people excusing themselves. The excusers exited the bus as people waited for them to do so. The mother could move now. She pulled on the bag laden handles of the pram, one of the wheels caught on the bottom of the vertical rail. She twisted it sideways and freed it. She then caught another passengers foot, “Sorry!”, she mumbled. The passenger smiled back and moved their foot underneath themselves. Pram freed, she turned it towards the front of the bus and headed to the doors. She didn't get far before she met the wave of new passengers who had failed to see her struggling behind the standers. The new passengers were reluctant to get off the bus, because they had paid already, so they just squashed up against the standers including the other mothers with prams and toddlers. The mother concentrated on the /two front wheels of the pram, trying not only to avoid the stander’s feet but to actually manage to make headway off the bus. As she moved forward the uplifted seats were dropped and the standers finally sat, leaving a void where they had once stood. A void which was very quickly filled by the new passengers. Each one looked up the packed bus and stayed where they were to become the next generation of standers.
The bus moved off again into the traffic. Eight hundred yards further on another stop loomed. A lone octogenarian lady stood with her arm out. The bus stopped, The doors opened. The old lady struggled with a heavy breath onto the bus. She reached into her shopping bag and rummaged around under the assorted individual portions of grocery. The nearside indicator of the bus ticked away the seconds as she continued her search. Finally she pulled out her purse. Swinging the canvas shopping bag onto her arm she opened the purse and began another search within it. Sliding every card in the available slots out slightly to see what they were. Bank card, library card, discount card, loyalty card, another discount card and finally her bus pass. She slid the card out and placed it on the smart card reading machine. She waited as the lights changed to acknowledge its acceptance and she removed it. Back in the purse and then in the canvas shopping bag she turned to face the passengers. There were no seats at all. A man who had been a first generation stander stood up again and offered her his seat. “Thank you !”, said the lady as she moved to the seat. The man became a second generation stander. The lady sat, albeit in a squashed manner, on the folded down seat, hugging her canvas bag of various individual portions of grocery on her knee.
The bus trundled on. Pete had now been on it for one hour, eighteen minutes, and counting. The next stop loomed up ahead, there was no-one at it. The bell dinged. “Excuse me! Excuse me!” came from the back of the bus. Standers shuffled out of the way. The remaining mothers pulled their toddlers closer to them to give a little more room for the evacuating passenger. Bus stops, doors open passenger alights to the pavement. Bus pulls out again.
Next stop. Only one person waiting there. Pete squinted at the figure. It was an inspector. Pete hated it when the inspector got on. He alighted the bus as the doors opened, “Tickets and passes ready please!”, he shouted as he straightened up on the platform. He made his way through the standers, glancing at a variety of tickets, he approached the lady sitting in the folded down seat, assuming that she was over sixty he said, “Pass please!”. She commenced her rummaging through the shopping bag and carried on until she eventually found purse. The inspector glanced at it and ticked something off on his clipboard. For what seemed like an age the inspector managed to cover the full complement of passengers. Pushing through the standers he made his way back to the front of the bus. Waiting at the window of the driver’s cabin he steadied himself as the bus approached the next stop. Even more passengers waiting.
Bus stops, doors open, the inspector steps towards the exit. Briefly turning back he says, “Thank Pete, see ya later.”. Pete nodded and gave a little wave - he hated driving buses.