Where the Damned Gather

The wind howls, the setting some kind of Arctic wind tunnel. Sure, there’s a waiting room over there, but it’s deserted. And no wonder. The strip lighting such an intense hue that it dazzles – a fluorescent goldfish bowl that makes the squall preferable.

There’s only a few people here. A mum yells at her kids, then tells her friend about her recent sex life, the wind carrying her conquests to the damp corners of the platform and anyone unfortunate enough to have hearing as functional as her genitals.

To use the bus is not a green option, it’s the last ditch attempt of the stranded.

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I loathe the fact I can’t drive tonight. My mind drifts back to when I was 17 and stole a car, took me and my mates to the hills before writing it off and waking up in hospital to be told I’d need an operation to rebuild my nose.

The joys of youth. The joys of joyriding. I never got behind a wheel again. I instinctively always put my pedal to the metal and treated country lanes as the world rally championships. I now know that I’m being punished.

Tonight, I wish I’d got a car.

The bus drivers awaiting their shift huddle around the No Smoking signs. Smoking. Scaffolding obscures the bay where my bus is due and the twenty minutes remaining stretch off into the blackness. I bury my chin inside my coat collar and wait.

The bus arrives. I pay. I take a seat. Just me and three others. The stench inside is overpowering. I imagine a hobo’s armpit. I bury my nose inside my coat collar, ruing the fact they rebuilt it.

As we collectively navigate our way along the roads, a rogue cola can chimes with the bends, rolling first that way, then back again. The atmosphere is cloying as all the passengers stare straight ahead, eyes appearing haunted by the experience, all desperate for their destination.

This is a travesty! An insult to the tax payer. A Dickensian scene powered by diesel. The chancellor’s coffers funding an illegal war rather than tackling this disgrace.

I thank the driver, alight, glad it’s over.

A short trip, yet another reminder that the UK’s public transport has a long journey ahead. How can this land have stooped so low?

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Photo courtesy of Flickr.

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