Open-Top Bus Idiocy
Hello.

I spent two glorious summer holidays during my university years working as a tour guide in Oxford, conducting tours of the dreaming spires and whatnot on an open-top bus to (more often than not) bemused Taiwanese tourists who had confused it with an actual bus service or Americans who kept asking where the university was. The work was hard on the throat, but the weather was cracking, coffee was free, and opportunities for telling big lies to credulous visitors were many (and fully taken advantage of.)

I have many tales I could tell of my time on the buses. There was our ongoing war with the rival tour company, the ubiquituous and extremely unethical international company City Sightseeing (you'll have seen their buses if you've ever been to a major city, anywhere) who not only were under strict instructions from central management to put us out of business by any means possible, but employed a real, genuine, registered-and-everything paedophile as a driver. They knew it when they employed him but he would work for below minimum wage because, as you can imagine, the job offers weren't exactly pouring in. There was the ongoing contest as to who of us could concoct the best lie and get away with it, as previously mentioned, which I may go into detail on on a later post. And there were the pranks. Oh dear Lord, the pranks.

But for now, I'll just tell you about a stupidly embarassing incident that happened to me one day when there was only one passenger on the bus, a nice middle-aged English lady. It was late afternoon, and as I often did when there were only a handful of folk on, I switched off my mike and went and sat on the seat facing her so I could give her a personal tour and answer any questions as we went along. Open-top buses tend to have metal rails that run just above the seats themselves, and as I talked to her, I swivelled around backwards on my seat and leant my arm and elbow through the gap between the rail and the seat behind, so I could face her properly.

You can probably guess where this is going.

About twenty minutes into the tour, I tried to change position as I was getting uncomfortable, only to find my arm had become stuck in the gap. Never mind. Leave it. Five minutes later, still talking, I try again. Nope, it's still stuck. OK, don't panic. Coming up to a corner where I need to be standing. Give arm sharp tug. Nothing. Still have to pretend everything is fine. Keep talking blithely about Cotswold stone and foundation dates of colleges. When she reaches for her camera, I lean forward as hard as I can and try and yank my arm out of there with my other hand. I am well and truly stuck, and it's starting to hurt. Plus my elbow is going a bit red and I can't feel the skin when I scratch it. Bugger.

Eventually, after about forty-five minutes, it was time to confess. She got involved. Then the driver stopped the bus and got involved. Then the manager of a cafe got involved after both of them had tried - one pulling, one pushing, me whimpering piteously like a dog with the runs - and failed to get me out. A call to the fire brigade is mooted. My boss is informed by telephone and pisses himself laughing (thanks, Paul) - so much so, he drops his phone and breaks it. So we can't call him.
Eventually the cafe manager comes back with a big tub of industrial margarine, and my poor elbow is greased up and eventually - oh joy! - slithers free. It hurts for about a week, and I get a massive bruise.

My boss puts signs up on the buses warning of this 'hazard.' I am not allowed to forget the incident for the rest of the summer.

the end.
(jennymnemonic, Wed 1 Jul 2009, 13:37, 5 replies)

I always love reading stories from people I've met.
When things like this happen then you can visualize the embarrassment so much more : )
( girlinthehole, Wed 1 Jul 2009, 13:50, closed)

The martyr's memorial
It's amazing how many Americans can be convinced that the memorial on St Giles is in fact a church that collapsed in an earthquake a hundred years ago, and remains in tact, underground. Bonus points fr making them think there is a hidden entrance in the magdalen street ladies loos though.

Im guessing you have more and better lies than this though?
(Foxinsockssir, Wed 1 Jul 2009, 14:20, closed)

I want to hear more
particularly the pranks and lies
(Banjax, Wed 1 Jul 2009, 14:38, closed)

Haha!
I did some of that tour-guiding stuff in Cambs during the holidays... not on a bus, but these 2-day residential courses for Japanese kids doing a tour of Europe, stuff like that. Highlights included persuading them that Michaelangelo did the ceiling of Ely Cathedral, and that in any church with a black and white chequered floor, it's considered extremely rude to walk on the black squares. Cue a couple of hundred small kids carefully hopping their way round churchs in diagonal lines.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Wed 1 Jul 2009, 14:46, closed)

Two clicks
One for the story

And one for the 'Hello' at the start and the 'the end' at the end.
( chart cat has an itch, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 4:27, closed)