Cock! I've just missed the 8 o'clock bus. This is usually because not so long back they changed the time table. So I'm still hung over from the last one. Its implanted in my God damn brain! The new time-table is now the “better service.” Bollox! Well okay they added leather seats, and fancy new tickets, but did they ever think about what I wanted? How would I feel about the changing of the bus times? Honestly, they have no sense of loyalty. And not only have they changed the times, they are now charging an extra twenty pence for an adult return. Well I have the upper hand there. My cunning cheapskate style paid off, for once. I bought the young persons travel pass at the beginning of the academic year. Genius! It allows me to get on the bus for a child's fair. But, it's still an extra ten pence a day. I could buy a Cadbury's Freddo with that sort of money. RIDICULUS!
Anyway, it is morning. I'm out the house (see rant number 1 for more details on my dubious ordeal with the family) and ready, as I can be, for college. But of cause there is always a problem. Why the fuck did the bus service put the bus stop so bloody far away from my house? I ask the useless bastards to do one thing, take me to and from college. No luck there though. The retarded Ravenshead street designers insisted on putting hills where the roads were, and annoying long forever bends in the road that is only possible to know how they work if you have a diagonal sense of logic. And so it takes me 10 minutes to walk to the bus stop. My parents don't help either. They should have moved (as every teenager who has the lazy gene knows) next to the bus stop so all I have to do in the morning is walk down the drive and bang I'm there. But noooooooo!
So I seem to always miss the 8 o'clock bus in the morning. It means I have to wait another bloody 15 minutes at the stupid bus stop. Okay I'll give the bus company one thing, at least I don't have to wait 20 minutes anymore. Well, that is “in theory.” Actually I have to wait longer than that. As my luck goes the bus at 8am always comes 5 minutes early, I know this because I always see it go by as I work out the alleyway, and then the 8.15 turns up ten minutes late. So I actually have to wait 30 minutes, 10 more minutes than what I used to.
Now there are two types of buses that run the pronto route. (And before you ask . . . NO I'm not a bloody bus spotter, I can just tell a good bus from a bad one.) The first bus company, in my opinion the nice one, is Trent Barton. This is the 8 o'clock bus. Now you might understand why I try so hard to get this particular bus. It is the lightest, brightest, routin'ist tootin'ist bus I've ever came across. Nice comfy smooth leather seats, funky seats near the back of the bus that actually make you go backwards and in general a nice place for reading. On a bus. On the other hand, (never really understood that saying, how can I fit a bus in my hand?) is the commonly late and wrongly named Pronto. The 8.15 bus is ran by Stagecoach. And essentially that is what it is. A massive dark room, with hard and sticky elephant skin leather seats, on wheels. And as I must of used all my Irish luck on a game of poker (the word is DOOMED!!), its seems I always have to get on that bus. Also, to make things worse, they have even taken the one thing I liked about the old Stagecoach buses, the news paper rack for the metro, out. Now I have to bloody sort through them, as they are spread out all over seats, to find a half decent looking one. All the others look as though some Mansfield tramp has used them for insulation.
However, on the rare occasion I catch the glorious 8 o'clock bus I can think about all the wonders of the day ahead. Well I could do but fate stops that doesn't it. I never seem to get any peace. All I want to do is daydream and sit on my own without a care in the world when some fat smelly man sits next to me. I'm well aware that people on buses like to sit next to people more harmless than themselves. We all do it from the minute we see the bus pulling up at the bus stop to the minute we sit down. We size the other passengers up. We look them up and down and move on until you find a suitably weak looking opponent. But do they always have to sit next to me? Do the fat people of today not have the decency to walk? They could then maybe lose some weight. Oh come on, they need the exercise. Or could they at least wash themselves before they sit next to me. Or even before they get on the bloody bus. It's like their kind still haven't invented deodorant.
Another thing that pisses me off about the Pronto is that it is full of old people who don't know the meaning of the phrase “please take your ticket.” Just because your an OAP, and you get free bus fair, doesn't mean you can ignore the rules. Stop jumping the queue and hurry up, I want to sit down already. Me, on the other hand, ALWAYS takes my ticket. Well I am not about to throw away Two Pound Thirty a day now am I? That's the price of a half return if you're a bit stupid. But to think without my sacred bus pass it would cost Four-Bloody-Pound Sixty. Bunch of bastards.
Well after all that kerfuffle with tickets et cetera, I am finally moving into Nottingham. (This is a visual thing, I'm actually sat at my laptop. I suppose I could be on a bus typing on my laptop, but, as far as I know, my bedroom does not have wheels that go round and round. Shame really.) A half an hour trip with an other 10 minute walk to college when I get into Nottingham itself. The bus should take me to the college doors. After all my bus pass says from Ravenshead to High Pavement College on it. And God knows I'm paying for it. So why the hell does it stop at the Vicky Centre? But on more than one occasion it takes a lot longer than this anyway. There can only be one reason. Traffic. Who the hell invented rush hour? Why is it that everyone is so desperate to get to work for bloody 9 o'clock? It's the big businesses fault. They are too dumb to realise I'm trying to get to college, and they are not helping. Stagger work time for fucks sake. Some people start at 7, some at 8, some at 9 and some at 10. Penises!
So I finally made it to Nottingham, late as usual. Annoyed about Breakfast and now pissed off with the buses. What else has the day got in-store for me? Well after I've gone through all that trauma I find out that it was all for nothing. My bloody lessons are cancelled.
If you have any issues raised, or were offended in anyway by my rants on buses and its circumstances, then I apologise. And I now apologise for apologising as I did not truly mean the first apology. And now I apologise for using the word apology too many time. If you have any inquiries about the bollox that goes on in my head then don't hesitate to ask. Thank you for reading.
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