We’re on a bus. We’ve no idea how long we’ve been on the bus as we’ve both dozed off. The driver might have even changed his route since we got on. We recognise an area that’s fairly close to home so we decide to get off at the next stop before we get further away. We press the button but the driver carries on. Outside, there’s thousands of school kids in uniform standing three-deep on the pavement. It’s as if they’re awaiting a parade. The bus circles around the neighbourhood then approaches a closer bus stop. I press the button and the bus shows no signs of slowing and we drive past. Then another bus stop appears. This time I press the button five times in a row.
‘Will you stop pressing the button?’ yells the driver. We
turn the corner and I shout ‘Driver, will you stop this bus please?.’ A bout of
swearing transmits in reply which I don’t quite catch but evidently the school kids
do as there’s a lot of gasping and head-turning. I march to the front of the
bus at which point the driver slams on the brakes and opens the door. We disembark
and the driver drives off before I have a chance to memorise the number plate.
I should have had my smartphone to hand.
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