Bus Drivers

I must start with an apology. It’s been an awful long time since I’ve written a blog and that is for two reasons. One – I don’t have internet at home at the frigging moment. Two – I’m incredibly busy. I mean, gosh… my diary! Guys, I don’t think you appreciate just how busy I am. Think about you at your busiest then multiply that by ten… you’re not even close. I am SICK AND TIRED of people hiring me to STAR in their TELEVISION SHOWS!

I’d like to title the second half of that paragraph ‘faux arrogance’ in the hope that you ‘get it’. Tone can be very difficult to get across in print which is why a writer with my skill level and bravery should not have a blog. Sooner or later this blog is going to cause someone’s death and I will hold you, the readers – the people who supported this madness – responsible. It’s only a matter of time.

The subject that has dragged me to write this bitch is bus drivers. I worry for them. I think it is fair to say that they are the most miserable group of people I’ve come ever across.  The question is – do miserable people become bus drivers or does the profession itself make them miserable?

Yesterday morning I ran for a bus. With any luck this rare show of physical effort bought me enough calories to have at least 2 guilt free Pringles. As I was only 10 feet away when the bus was about the pull away, the driver was kind enough to leave his doors open and wait for me. It wasn’t an exceptional deed but it was the decent thing to do and I salute him for it. Having watched in agony and wrath as many bus drivers simply drove off in identical circumstances I decided to thank the driver for his humanity with the following statement;

“Thanks very much. Cheers for that.”

Not bad for 8 in the morning, I think. Direct. Polite. Appreciative. Mainstream.

The driver wasn’t so sure. For some reason, my attempt at a ‘thank you’ produced nothing but disgust in him. His face suggested that a little bit of vomit might have come up. He scowled, rolled his eyes and then turned away from the prick who dared to speak to him. I laughed out loud. You may know it as an ‘lol’.

What was it that I had done so wrong? It’s not like the bus was supposed to arrive at a certain time and I had dared to be late for it. I had simply ran for a bus and then thanked a driver for waiting three seconds for me. This is my theory;

Oyster cards and the like (in London at least) have made it completely unnecessary for bus drivers to have any contact with the hundreds of people they drive around each day. This lack of human contact has led them to resent us. Locked in cages, dealing with shitty traffic and cumbersome vehicles for hours, they have turned into (with the greatest respect) abused animals. So when one of us offers out the hand of friendship they are angry, suspicious and afraid – and they bark. Heaven forbid one of them bites.

As a solution may I suggest the following? Look upon all bus drivers as a (again, with the greatest respect) dog you have just adopted from Battersea Dogs Home. No matter what they do to you, show them nothing but love. ALWAYS thank them when getting onto and off a bus and try to offer them as many smiles as possible. Gradually they will realise that we are nothing to fear.