Like so many of us, I struggle to enjoy public transport. The self serving nature and lugging of luggage are just some of my personal woes. But this doesn't mean these journeys can't be enjoyable. For instance, the relaxation gained from two hours of sleeping, reading, or gazing out at the countryside, comes with immediate acceptance. Needless to say, my journeys homeward are typically unexciting and dreadfully average. However, I was in for a surprise on Friday the 1st of November, when my boring travels evolved into a "momentary" adrenaline joyride. Without embellishing too much.
I was firstly met with a bombardment of obstacles; which only seem dominant while travelling via coach. Contending with the lateness of a coach is something we all (as British people) can take in our strides, but getting on a shoddy-looking coach is another. I'm not trying to pick at the small details, considering I paid a pittance for the travel. It is the fact that this looked like an old coach - something that should have been awaiting the crusher. When you wait for a Mega Bus, and a white smoky Snowdon coach pulls up, it makes you a little weary of its transporting ability. As reluctant as I was, I got on it as if I was first in the dinner queue. I had been waiting for an hour after all, I just wanted to lay back and get on with my reading.
So here I was, an hour into my journey. One toilet break, no toilet paper, no soap, and the tap was inoperable. I bounced side to side nearly falling into an old woman's lap as I tried to return to my seat. Luckily I was greeted with similar compassion for my unbalance, as she got up next and reciprocated. However, I digress. After reading a little more of Jack Kerouac's The Dharma Bums - a fantastic read by the way; combining 50s culture, with Zen Buddhism, just great. I was proceeding on with my commute when the man in front leaned his chair back right into my lap. All I could do was raise my brows and arms in surprise (and helplessness). I am not one to intervene in this type of situation. The way I see it, anyone is free to attain the best position of comfort in this cramped environment. Yet I was overcome with a pretentious urge to voice my discomfort. Thereby turning myself into the most stuck-up person to travel by coach.
I understand these are all minor qualms, it is just a coach to Birmingham, but I believe all the passengers were stressed and agitated. We all wanted to relax and let the journey take it's course. Something that would have been inevitable if it weren't for the burning smell stagnating in the air. A precursor to a drastic malfunction. I recall turning to the woman next to me, sniffed the air and asked 'do you smell that?' In which she replied, 'yeah ... also isn't it a little hot in here'. I proceeded to scan my surroundings, to which I noticed the smoky air around us. Surprisingly I didn't fear the worst, as the woman reassured me that 'it could be the radiators'. So from this reassurance I attempted to relax for the rest of my journey: even with a modicum of uncertainty still brooding inside. I lay my head back and drifted off.
The next thing I knew, we'd screeched to a stop on the hard shoulder. The driver pulled the mystical curtain back, shuffled urgently to the door and bellowed 'everyone off the bus NOW!' I grabbed my coat, bag, dropped my phone and bolted to the door. Outside with half the passengers I noticed the driver tossing bags and suitcases several feet from the coach. During this time I'd passed from confusion, to panic, to fear. All I could think was 'it's going to blow up, it's going to blow up'. A notion which was only exacerbated by the driver's instruction to head toward the bridge; located thirty feet away from the coach. It was easy to assume the worst from this type of information, instead of discovering the logical explanation, that it was just safety precaution in any breakdown situation. Nevertheless, me plus fifty other travellers stood cold and confused on an unlit motorway for the next hour and a half. I remember selfishly thinking, 'I'm glad I brought my hat, gloves, and coat'. As I was struck by the realisation I'd lost my phone, my half smile faded. I raced back to the coach, the smoke now dissipating, infusing with the cold winter air. I crept around the driver and quickly swiped my phone, pocketed it, and breathed a sigh of relief. It was almost like I was committing something atrocious. A type of bus treason possibly. By disobeying the safety regulation I briefly became a renegade. Moving on from that ridiculous concept, I returned to my unidentified companions.
After talking to some of the people around me I discovered that we would be stranded for the next fifty minutes. So I got to conversing with some students. Small talk became redundant after half an hour, but as people they were really friendly individuals. I suppose that is often the way with people you meet on your travels. As the narrator suggested in Chuck Palahniuk's Fight Club, everything is single-serving, including "single-serving friends". I felt a little at ease being with other students, it made conversation a little easier having similar interests and lifestyles. At one point when it got particularly blustery I offered the girl who was with us a hat to keep warm - my good deed for the day. Time dragged a little, but eventually some were picked up by a minibus, and finally the replacement coach arrived for the rest of us. As expected a round of applause and cheers began. We raced on board. I heaved my things on the rack above me, sat down content with thoughts resonating of happiness. I was out of the cold, and on a new coach.
My predicted two hour journey evolved into six hours. It was a little different from my usually mundane route, but I met some lovely people - including a nice girl called Ruby on the short train journey to my town. Considering tonight is bonfire night, it seems appropriate to share this near bus bonfire. As it foreshadowed the coming week; along with it's festivities.
