I made friends at the bus stop last night.
I didn’t set out to make friends because if I have one rule it’s that I should never, ever engage anyone else waiting for the bus in conversation. But it just kind of happened. I ended up in a little bit of a chat with two women who catch my bus home in the evening – we’re always there, come rain or shine, but we don’t talk to each other. It’s just not the done thing.
But yesterday there were just the three of us. There was me – waiting in the usual spot I wait, despite it once being the site of an incident involving a pigeon with the shits, and the two women who wait under the shelter. Just the three of us. I moved under the cover of the bus shelter because it started to rain – or, at least, I assume it was rain. You can really never tell anymore – once you’ve been dripped on by a leaky pigeon sphincter, it really changes your views on precipitation.
Anyway, there we were. Just the three of us waiting for the bus.
And then along came a group of lads who bypassed all three of us and established themselves as the head of the queue.
And that’s how we got chatting. We started to talk about the number of people who push in at that bus stop – who just rush to the front because they think that all the other people are maybe just standing around for the fun of it, rather than to catch the exact same bus.
And, inevitably, our conversation turned to the little woman with the gym bag who always barges her way to the front. I just mentioned her as a joke, saying that she was all we needed now and our evening would be complete. What I didn’t realise was that these two had massive amounts of hate for this little pusher-inner. I mean, she annoys me with her ducking and diving, but these two… wow.
Apparently, and this is something I’m going to keep an eye out for, they like to trip her up if she pushes in. “There’s nothing funnier,” says one of the women, “than seeing her stumble onto the bus when I’ve legged her up as she rushes past. I really enjoy that.” I mean, obviously, that’s so wrong. It is. It’s just wrong. But when you travel on public transport as much as me you know that, occasionally, people just need a gentle nudge in the right direction, just to remind them that there are other people who use the same mode of transport.
“I think there’s something wrong with her,” she continued. “Because when she sits down she kind of spreads out, and flings her bag about. So one day I just asked her… I just said to her, ‘do you have to be such an ignorant bitch?’ She doesn’t seem to do it as much anymore…”
Remind me never to push in for the bus…