I looked at the clock and realised it was 8:49pm and thought, bugger it, better leave sharp because last week the 10 past bus was 6 minutes early and flew right by me as I walked to the road end, and I’d to chase it three stops while it teasingly idled at two different sets of traffic lights before finally catching it up—sweat pishin oot me—only for it to draw away right as I reached its tail end, leaving me panting and cursing YA BASTURT! efter the driver on the verge of a heart attack slash stroke slash fit.
Deciding to avoid a repeat of last week, I drain my coffee, chuck all my gear in my bag, skip past the loos, hesitate for a second, then think better of it and make a run for the door, arriving at the stop bang on 9pm. So of course the bus is 20 minutes late and I’ve to wait for ages, and ages, and ages, and the longer I stand there in the freezing cauld, the more I realise I really, really, really need to pee and should’ve went to the loo before I left.
Great.
I start thinking maybe if I’m quick I could nip to the pub across the road, but I’m too feart the bus will shoot by and I’ll be left shivering my arse off another hour waiting on the next one like last week. But then, right at the point where I’m starting to stew and don’t think I can haud it any longer, I spot the bus turning the corner and coming along the road—ya dancer!
I pile myself on, plunk myself down, and the bus pulls away.
Just don’t think about it…
We’ve only made it the one stop when a set of blue flashers goes off and the driver’s to pull over. Out he gets for words with Polis 1, while Polis 2 gets on and reassures us Everything’s Okay, it’s Jist A Random Check and tells us Ye’ll Be On Yer Way In a Meenit or Two.
Great.
I’m no thinking about it…
I realise then that I’ve sat right above a wheel. The driver’s left the engine ticking over (lucky the Polis never commented on that seeing as it’s meant to be a crime nowadays), and the juddering motion of the engine’s making my bladder wobble and shudder and rattle and vibrate and generally slosh about inside me.
Just don’t think about it, Kris… Just don’t think about it…
The driver finally gets back on, and with a wee wave to the cops we’re off on our way again. And I’m thinking, phew!, only 25 minutes left to go, I can make this! *Whistles* Right, 20 to go, c’moan! *Hums a wee tune* 15 left, yeeeha!
The bus pulls over again in Linthouse to let someone off. Through the window, I notice a bright yella luminous jacket hovering about outside, and next thing we’re being boarded by an inspector from the bus company who announces Valid Tickets and Passes At The Ready, Please.
Great.
No time like the present, eh?
Don’t think about it…
The driver at least sets off again while the inspection is in progress instead of waiting about, but of course, Trampy Wully doon the front has only paid a half fare to Partick and was chancing it through the tunnel to Hillington. He decides to start an argument with Wee Joabsworth in his yella jacket, and suddenly he’s giein it aw Ah’ve Nae Fucken Money and Whit Diffurnse Dis It Make Noo Ah’ve Only Twae Stoaps Tae Go… But nope. Invalid is Invalid in Wee Joabsworth’s book, and he draws in his chin and puffs oot his chest tae tell him he wants him Affa This Bliddy Bus: NOW.
Well.
Trampy Wully digs his heels in and keeps protesting. He’s Gaun Naewhere But Hame. The driver has to pull back over and cuts the engine, and now him and Wee Joabsworth are both nipping at Trampy Wully tae Get Affa This Bliddy Bus: RIGHT NOW OR ELSE, and I’m still absolutely no thinking about it, even though I might be sweating a wee bit now, and two or three passengers are getting agitated and they join in berating the guy because C’moan Pal, We’re Aw Wantin’ Hame Tae Wur Beds, and I’ve tried my best no tae think about it, but eventually it gets too much and I roar down the bus:
HAW—AH’LL PAY HIS EXTRA POUND IF YE’LL JUST GET THIS BUS UP THE ROAD BEFORE AH PISH MASEL.
Sake.
10 minutes later…?
#Aaaaaaaaaah!
Deep joy.
There’s nowt mare satisfying than a well-held streamy.