I Hate Bus Drivers

"Two two-day adult rovers please", I said placing thirty quid down on the tray. "That'll be twenty quid" he said, printing out two one-day adult rovers. "No, I said, we need two two-day adult rovers. Look - here's thirty quid." The bus driver rolled his eyes and sighed at me as though I was some kind of twit.

I hate bus drivers.

Tell a lie, I don't hate them, I just dislike them. Bus drivers come in two camps. In one camp there's the jolly, helpful, right-out-of-children's'-TV type of bus driver. These guys go out of their way to make you feel on top of the world. Then there is the grumpy, sighing, eye-rolling, make-you-feel-like-a-twit type of bus driver. These guys are on a mission to make you have a bad day. They ought to get paid less.

Ha, I'm kidding, honest. And to be fair on him, it looked as though he was having a terrible day. The bus was completely full of OAPs. So much so that while the heavily pregnant missus was given a seat, I had to stand for the entire forty minute journey.

None of us were happy. Our bus was twenty minutes late, and after forking out fifteen quid each for our "adult rovers" we were expecting a) punctuality and b) a seat.

These days I spent most of my time grumbling at public transport. I would probably be much happier if I lowered my expectations, but NO, I tell myself, it's a matter of principal. I overheard my wife complaining to the old dear next to her. She explained what had happened on the Isle of Wight this summer.

The touring companies had decided to dump their coachloads of OAPs in the larger towns and force them to get round the Isle themselves. The result was that suddenly a bus was picking up 20+ OAPs a time, all needing to buy their "adult rovers". The bus services have been struggling to cope with the sudden increase in numbers. The touring companies had given them no warning.

I heard one lady mutter something about "no one is to blame". What nonsense. I hate it when people say that. There's always someone to blame, in this case it is the touring companies.

The bus was too full to take on any more passengers. It hurtled past several crowded bus stops without even slowing down. As we sped away from the angry crowds I looked back and chuckled to myself. An angry old man in a red scarf was shaking his fist at us. At least I was on the bus.

This cheered me up and I settled down to enjoy the journey. Public transport isn't so bad after all.