Bus Rant v2.0

A man on the bus who sometimes sits next to me smells of pine needles. I imagine he works in a car air freshener factory, or to save money in these thrifty times uses such deodorisers in favour of Right Guard. He also has a folding bike.

Another of my fellow passengers , looks like a rejected Bee Gee; a Gibb brother who didn't make the high pitched vocal grade. He does, however, have the dentures of his pseudo siblings.

There's the drunk who stays on the bus for a single stop. The giggling school girls who, I'm sure, sit texting each other. And the fat kid who tips the bus when he gets on.

That's not to mention the bald guy with the big scar across the top of his head. In case you haven't guessed by now I'm starting to get to know my fellow commuters, not by name, but by the fictitious lives I choose to give them.

I see the same depressed faces, who get on and get off at the same stops, and sit in the same seats. Day in Day out, like a rotisserie, endlessly going round and round until they find something else to do. (I include myself in this description.) I'm convinced they lead perfectly happy lives outside the confines of the bus. Their smiles wiped from their faces as soon as the step on say to the driver, "single to Nuneaton, please." It's as if some unwritten rule is subconsciously ingrained on our brains from birth.

Then there's unattractive factor. No one looks sexy on a bus. (Again, I include myself in the description.) Not even that grumpy bloke from the vampire film can look sexy on public transport. First there's the stagger when the bus is in motion. No one can look good as their thrown from one side of the bus to other, grabbing the hand rails like they were monkey bars. Secondly there's the intimacy issue. It's very rare we get as close as we do as we do on a bus. All crammed in to such a small space. And most of us don't look that good close up. God forbid someone will sit next to me. Avoid eye contact at all costs. Apologise politely for ANY contact at all.

While I'm on the subject of not looking sexy, it is impossible to remove a rucksack, when worn with both straps, with any dignity left in tact. I have opted for such a shoulder hold-all on my commute. In my youth I 'wore' the rucksack over a single shoulder. Now in adulthood I opt for a dual strap approach. This appears to be the way with the youth of today, however, they tend to keep their straps as long as possible. The result being the 'Sack' hangs down just above the rear. While this does give the advantage of being easier to remove the rucksack I will not mimicking my younger fellow commuters, and for two reasons. One: I do not wish to pretend to young and trendy. I wasn't trendy when I was young, and I'm not going to start now. Two: I reckon it'd be bloody annoying. But anyway I digress.

There is something disturbing I have spotted on my journey to work. It is a plastic statuette of an elderly man, with white hair and a moustache. It is outside a hairdressers and I'm guessing the replica being is supposed to a barber. However there's something missing, or rather two things missing. Namely his hands. I can't think of the logic behind the owners of the barbers using such a figurine. It's as if they're trying to say, 'we cut hair as good as someone with no hands.' Either that or just a force of habit and it's something they've done since they opened in 19-blah-de-blah. Some youths with rucksacks hanging round the bum must've stolen the hands years ago. I'm not sure which is worse: a misjudged message or doing something just because that's the way it's always been done.

At least a pun wasn't used in the name of the business.

Other than being a little annoyed on the way to work, I'm feeling fine, by the way.

J