BUSy

BUSy

"I always liked a man in uniform" the crumpled old woman giggled to the
bus driver, as she lifted her skirt and stepped carefully out onto the
street.
"My husband was in the navy, and boy was he something to look at when
he&;#8230;" The glass doors folded together cutting off her voice as
she continued to speak.
The inside of the bus became silent again. The bus driver shook his
head.
"I'm sure he did love" came the sarcastic boom of his earthy voice, as
he flicked a switch on the radio and covered the silence with the
steady beats of rock and roll.
"If I have to hear one more life story, I'm going to unhook my lemon
air-freshener, take down my Popeye poster and get the hell out of
here". He said to himself as he watched the old woman shuffle down the
street, and turn a corner.
"When ever they get on my bus, they greet me like a long lost friend of
theirs! And by the time they get off, they're ready to exchange phone
numbers, and arrange to go out for a drink sometime!" He got up and
stomped down to the back of the bus.
"I mean, what is it about me that attracts them? My little pants and
this uptight goddamn hat?" He yanked the hat off and tossed it onto the
ground.
The bus was now empty. It was the last stop for the day, and the bus
driver was fed up and irritable. He felt like kicking back and having a
quick doze before he had to go home to more annoying questions and
responsibilities. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, feeling the
sharp sting of the smoke hit his lungs. He leant back into the seat and
sluggishly closed his eyes.
Then came the knocking on the door. The bus driver's eyelids refused
to open. They felt heavy like large velvet curtains that hid scenery
before a play. If I stay as still as I possibly can, he thought to
himself. Perhaps I'll fade into the background and look as though I'm
part of the seat, or maybe even an advertisement on the side of the
bus.
But the knocking came again, quicker and louder than before. And so
with a frustrated groan of the pulleys, the curtain was lifted, and the
play began.
A young man stood on the step of the bus pounding the doors with his
fists. His eyes were looking frantically around him, and when the doors
sprang open before him, he lost his balance and fell heavily onto his
knees.
"Excuse me. I'm terribly sorry. I hate to disturb you, but&;#8230;"
the young man rushed. He gulped as he saw the bus driver, stand up and
move towards him, his thickly muscled arms crossed at his chest. The
bus driver towered over the young man. A skyscraper, casting a shadow
on a dilapidated one bedroom semi-detached. The young man got up from
the floor and brushed himself off. He was thin and pale and dressed in
an expensive looking business suit with ostentatiously large shoulder
pads. In one hand he clutched a small leather satchel. In the other, a
bunch of shiny golden keys.
"My car broke down" the young man started, holding out his keys "and I
have to get to an important function, and I know nobody in town, and
there are no taxis and well&;#8230;" he broke off.
"You want me to drive you there" the bus driver finished. The young
man nodded slowly, a look of both hope and terror pinned to his
face.
"How long?"
"&;#8230;Four hours&;#8230;" The young man seemed to shrink down
into his shoulder pads, and he held his hands up to his face as if to
shield it from an expected blow. And then the bus driver cracked. The
words of abuse that had piled up inside of him from years of
frustration at last flowed freely out of his mouth. The Popeye poster
was torn down and ripped to shreds, the radio was switched to the
classical station and turned up loud. He tried to hang himself with his
lemon scented air freshener. And that young man certainly didn't want
to become friends with him then, even with his little pants and goddamn
uptight hat.
Then a hundred-dollar bill was placed on the dashboard of the bus, and
at once the chaos stopped. The glass doors swung shut behind the young
man, and the engine started up. The bus pulled out swiftly into
oncoming traffic. And as it made it's way down the highway, the two men
could be seen inside exchanging phone numbers and organising a trip to
the pub the next night.