Public Transport Trauma
Completely Underwhelmed writes, "I was on a bus the other day when a man got on wearing shorts, over what looked like greeny grey leggings. Then the stench hit me. The 'leggings' were a mass of open wounds, crusted with greenish solidified pus that flaked off in bits as he moved."
What's the worst public transport experience you've ever had?
( , Thu 29 May 2008, 15:13)
Completely Underwhelmed writes, "I was on a bus the other day when a man got on wearing shorts, over what looked like greeny grey leggings. Then the stench hit me. The 'leggings' were a mass of open wounds, crusted with greenish solidified pus that flaked off in bits as he moved."
What's the worst public transport experience you've ever had?
( , Thu 29 May 2008, 15:13)
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When I lived out of town
I used to travel by bus for 45 minutes each way to work every day. Oh, the excitement when the old "Eastern Scottish" introduced an Express service. Which missed a few stops and a bus station, cutting about 5 minutes off the journey. Woo and indeed hoo.
Some of the buses were incredibly old but every now and then you got a new one. They had this weird design where the steps went up and over the driver's head, coming out at the very front of the bus. This meant a row of three single seats on the left. No-one ever sat there unless the bus was full.
One night, my friend and I were going home rather later than normal, having partaken of a few sweet sherries to celebrate the end of the week. Oh alright, then, the best part of a bottle of bacardi. Chased down with a chippy. As you do.
The last bus home, always an adventure, even if it did leave the centre of town at a scandalously early 10:30pm. There were no night buses, so the alternative was £20 in a taxi. Or a drunken phone call to my big brother at silly o'clock .... but I digress.
So, three stops after we got on, the obligatory "singing drunk" boards the bus. We used to joke to the drivers that if one didn't get on, he'd have to do the singing instead. Occasionally we even raised a smile! The drunk falls at least once while scaling his personal Everest. At the beginning, all we can hear is a low sort of humming as he stumbles around the front of the bus, eventually falling into one of the aforementioned single seats.
He settles himself into the seat, leaning against the window, and launches into the world's worst ever rendition of that 80's classic, "I should be so lucky" by a certain Ms Minogue. Except he only knew that one line. So he repeated it. Over and over again.
Despite several people yelling at him to shut up, he continued with his one line murdering until he fell asleep.
Approaching the half way point, there's a rather sharp left turn, at which the road also tilted slightly. The bus drivers all slowed down markedly, but the height of a double decker means that it's always going to lean on corners. More so on this one.
The drunk fell off the seat. We all laughed.
Not much further, there's another sharp left turn. He fell off again. We all laughed again. Between the scene of the first oopsy and the end of the line, he fell off the seat four times in total. We stopped laughing when we realised that on one of these occasions he'd lost control of his bladder and there was a river of piss flowing up and down the bus. Many windows were opened, many feet were lifted off the floor.
The full horror soon dawned. We had to get off the bus soon, and as neither of us had ever learned to fly, we'd have to walk through it. I was wearing suede boots. Fawn suede boots.
The other passengers were disappearing one by one and our stop was approaching. I decided to spend as little time as possible with my feet on the floor, and stood on my seat, then climbed onto the one in front, and the one in front, until I ran out of seats to stand on. My friend did the same. I managed to get to the stairs and down them balancing only on the stilleto heels, thus not ruining my brand new boots. My friend was less lucky.
Poor Carol. She slipped stepping off the last seat and landed on her arse. I compounded the insult by walking five feet away from her all the way home, complaining about the smell. I'd like to think I'm a better friend these days. I didn't even offer her a scoosh of perfume. So, rather belatedly, Carol, I'm sorry. One day I may even tell her that to her face. If she ever lets me tell the story in her presence without threatening bodily harm, that is.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 19:16, 2 replies)
I used to travel by bus for 45 minutes each way to work every day. Oh, the excitement when the old "Eastern Scottish" introduced an Express service. Which missed a few stops and a bus station, cutting about 5 minutes off the journey. Woo and indeed hoo.
Some of the buses were incredibly old but every now and then you got a new one. They had this weird design where the steps went up and over the driver's head, coming out at the very front of the bus. This meant a row of three single seats on the left. No-one ever sat there unless the bus was full.
One night, my friend and I were going home rather later than normal, having partaken of a few sweet sherries to celebrate the end of the week. Oh alright, then, the best part of a bottle of bacardi. Chased down with a chippy. As you do.
The last bus home, always an adventure, even if it did leave the centre of town at a scandalously early 10:30pm. There were no night buses, so the alternative was £20 in a taxi. Or a drunken phone call to my big brother at silly o'clock .... but I digress.
So, three stops after we got on, the obligatory "singing drunk" boards the bus. We used to joke to the drivers that if one didn't get on, he'd have to do the singing instead. Occasionally we even raised a smile! The drunk falls at least once while scaling his personal Everest. At the beginning, all we can hear is a low sort of humming as he stumbles around the front of the bus, eventually falling into one of the aforementioned single seats.
He settles himself into the seat, leaning against the window, and launches into the world's worst ever rendition of that 80's classic, "I should be so lucky" by a certain Ms Minogue. Except he only knew that one line. So he repeated it. Over and over again.
Despite several people yelling at him to shut up, he continued with his one line murdering until he fell asleep.
Approaching the half way point, there's a rather sharp left turn, at which the road also tilted slightly. The bus drivers all slowed down markedly, but the height of a double decker means that it's always going to lean on corners. More so on this one.
The drunk fell off the seat. We all laughed.
Not much further, there's another sharp left turn. He fell off again. We all laughed again. Between the scene of the first oopsy and the end of the line, he fell off the seat four times in total. We stopped laughing when we realised that on one of these occasions he'd lost control of his bladder and there was a river of piss flowing up and down the bus. Many windows were opened, many feet were lifted off the floor.
The full horror soon dawned. We had to get off the bus soon, and as neither of us had ever learned to fly, we'd have to walk through it. I was wearing suede boots. Fawn suede boots.
The other passengers were disappearing one by one and our stop was approaching. I decided to spend as little time as possible with my feet on the floor, and stood on my seat, then climbed onto the one in front, and the one in front, until I ran out of seats to stand on. My friend did the same. I managed to get to the stairs and down them balancing only on the stilleto heels, thus not ruining my brand new boots. My friend was less lucky.
Poor Carol. She slipped stepping off the last seat and landed on her arse. I compounded the insult by walking five feet away from her all the way home, complaining about the smell. I'd like to think I'm a better friend these days. I didn't even offer her a scoosh of perfume. So, rather belatedly, Carol, I'm sorry. One day I may even tell her that to her face. If she ever lets me tell the story in her presence without threatening bodily harm, that is.
( , Fri 30 May 2008, 19:16, 2 replies)
Get's a click just for that fourth sentence.
The rest of the story was rather good too.
( , Sat 31 May 2008, 0:16, closed)
The rest of the story was rather good too.
( , Sat 31 May 2008, 0:16, closed)
^ ^
I liked that bit too.
Must be the poshest 'woohoo' I've ever heard......erm, read.
( , Sat 31 May 2008, 3:04, closed)
I liked that bit too.
Must be the poshest 'woohoo' I've ever heard......erm, read.
( , Sat 31 May 2008, 3:04, closed)
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