Bus Driver #dreamdiary97

It’s my birthday and I’ve decided to hire a red London Routemaster bus to take all my friends around country pubs for the day. It’s got lots of rust and faded paint and I get first dibs at the wheel. I’ve chosen a few friends who have volunteered to stay sober to take us the rest of the way. My first task is to pick them up; and I’ve told them what bus stops to be at. We’ve made a customised route number that says Paul’s Pub tour. At the first stop, my best friend joins me and takes a few pictures of me behind the wheel; then I get out and take a few pictures as well. But then a woman comes along and gets on our bus! I explain that we’re not a real bus but that we’ve hired it for the day. 

‘But who is driving?’ she asks.

I open my wallet and show her the permit that I’ve been given for the day; which surprisingly looks like a bus pass. ‘But I suppose I can take you’ I say. We’ve got a few stops to make first. ‘Where do you want to go?’

I pull out into traffic. The next stop is only two hundred yards away and a group of five people are standing by the post. One of them sticks out their hand. I stop but only because I’m in traffic waiting for the lights to change. Foolishly, I’ve left the door open because it’s such a hot day and there’s no air conditioning; so on they hop flashing bus passes. 

‘Em, we’re not a real service’ I explain, but they don’t seem to hear me and take their seats. What do I do now?’ I turn to my friend. 

‘Just stick to our plan and pick everyone else up’ says my friend. ‘If they haven’t gotten off by then we’ll drive them to the hospital and chuck them out at the interchange. They’ll be able to catch another bus from there.’

Ten minutes later we’ve taken on another eight passengers and I’ve earnt £4.50 in fares. We’ve had numerous complaints though; we’ve not been giving the correct change; issuing tickets or accepting contactless payments. We’ve decided to let these passengers on for free. Then one drunk wants us to wait for him while he goes and gets a bag of chips. I’m close to bursting to tears at this stage as everyone is messaging me to see where I am; whether I’ve broken down or is the pub crawl still on. Then I realise that a real bus driver wouldn’t wait and I decide to man up and put the pedal to the metal.

 ‘You can catch the next one’ I yell through the rolled-down window. I head off.