Not the Magic Bus

I've heard it said that only the poor and the crazy travel by long distant bus. For instance, there was the case in 2008 in Canada where a passenger stabbed a fellow traveller, decapitated him and then began eating him. I even found an article about terrible things happening on Greyhound buses: https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/gq8qzw/the-worst-things-that-have-ever-happened-on-greyhound-buses

And in the first episode of Wynonna Earp, a passenger gets off the bus when it breaks down and is hauled off into the woods by something when she goes to pee. I watched that first episode last week when I was travelling by bus between my home and my old hometown. Probably wasn't the wisest thing to watch considering what happened next.

But before I get into that, I should explain why I was travelling by long distance bus instead of driving or flying. Although I am poorer than usual due to not being in work, and some - OK, many - would say I'm crazy, that's not why I chose the bus. I did so because I like long-distance travel. I love road-trips. And while I could have driven, I wanted to sit back, relax, listen to a podcast or watch a Netflix download, and watch the scenery go by.

It's been some years since I travelled long distance by bus - not since my university days. And when I made the decision to do so this time, it was with the knowledge there was a 'luxury' option available. That option promised reclining leather seats, a USB port and wall charger, and free wifi. And the cost for this was not much more than a standard ticket. So I booked it for both my outbound and return journey.

The first problem came two days before I was due to leave. On Saturday night I got a phone call from the bus company. Due to the bad weather and road closures my bus on the Tuesday wouldn't have the 'gold' seat option. They could refund and rebook me or I could choose to have a standard seat. Rebooking wasn't an option so I chose to go with the standard seat - free wifi was still available.

But on Tuesday morning, as I waited at the bus stop, I noticed a service update on the bus company's website. My bus wouldn't even be one of their fleet but would be from another company. Sure enough, when it rolled into town I could see my dreams of a comfortable trip north heading rapidly south. All the window seats were full so I squeezed into an aisle seat next to the first person who foolishly made eye contact with me. Our shoulders immediately became intimately acquainted and would stay that way for the duration. There were no arm rests on the aisle seats, and although I'm not as wide in the beam as some, I felt like I was hanging one cheek in the aisle. And corners became a challenge in staying in my seat. There was also no wifi. I was not happy.

After an hour of disgruntled sulking and swaying I listened to a Vinyl Cafe podcast. Those always cheer me up and did so once again. I resigned myself to my situation and settled back to enjoy what I could of the trip. A chicken pie and ginger slice at the lunch stop improved my mood further - as did access to a wall socket in the cafe for my phone charger. By the time we reached the snow of the central plateau I was quite happy. The children on the bus were delighted by the sight of the snow and the bus driver pulled over for five minutes to let people get out and have a play. Even though we were running a little behind time. The elderly gent next to me had never been in snow before and was pretty excited to get out and take a few photos.

My fellow passengers were a mix of the elderly, the socio-economically deprived, backpackers, and children returning home from their school-holiday visits to grandparents. They were all fantastically well behaved - I had no complaints to make about noisy screaming foreign tourists.

Then we reached Taupo and changed buses. The drivers had to transfer the bags and it was while this was happening that the catalyst for later events occurred. While moving a bag from the bus to the footpath our driver bumped it into a woman walking past. She didn't fall. She wasn't injured. She just stumbled a little and carried on. But the woman standing next to me on the footpath lost her shit! She yelled at the driver about his carelessness and told him to go apologise to the woman - who was now long gone. It turned out it was her bag that had hit the woman. The driver seem confused - he was unaware he'd bumped anyone. He told her he hadn't seen anyone there and was trying to unload quickly. But she wasn't happy. Hell Passenger - I'll call her that for now - then started abusing him about his driving, saying he'd been going too fast. He politely ignored her and continued unloading the bus. She shut up eventually and moved away.

When we boarded the next bus I decided to sit a little further forward and took a window seat near the front. I guess I broke bus etiquette by not choosing the same seat as I had on the previous bus. I instantly got the death stare from a woman across the aisle. Then Hell Passenger sat next to me. I wasn't alarmed - I thought she'd calmed down. I was so very wrong.

While we had a new relief driver, our previous driver remained on board and sat one seat ahead of us across the aisle. Hell Passenger immediately restarted her abuse. "So are you going to go apologise to that lady you knocked over? I've been recording everything for your bosses! I'm going to report you." Once again he explained that he hadn't seen the woman and apologised for having bumped her with the bag. She wouldn't accept that. He should have gone after her. He explained again why he couldn't and didn't. At this point I decided to say something. I politely said to Hell Passenger "He's apologised for this. What else would you like him to do?"

Big mistake. She rounded on me and told me "I never asked for your opinion Gingernut! And I'm recording all this." She waved her phone in my face and breathed alcohol fumes over me. Aha! It all became clear. The driver then foolishly asked what she'd meant about his poor driving. I sat there shaking my head at him, trying to get him to understand that he should drop the issue. But she let fly at him about his driving too fast around the lake. Other passengers were staring at us and the relief driver was glancing around anxiously. I decided to shut up and not engage further. Drunk Hell Passenger continued to vent at the driver who was trying his best to calm the situation down. But she was in full rant. Next thing I heard was "And I don't need comment from a bloody redneck beside me". That was it. I was furious. I turned to her and asked if she'd like me to move, because I was quite happy to do so and let her have both seats.

"No, you can stay there. I don't care!" she exhaled on me. Then she had a change of heart. "Yeah, OK. Move!"

I gathered my two bags and coat and politely asked her to move into the aisle so I could get past.
"Nah, I'm not getting up. You'll have to get past."

My blood was boiling at this point. I stood and squeezed past her, making sure I stuck my backside as far back into her face as I could. I hoped I would also stand on her feet in the process and bang my bag into her head but I didn't achieve that. Neither did I achieve the fart which would have been the cherry-on-the-top of my exit. The abused driver and several passengers reached out their hands to steady me as I wobbled into the aisle of the moving bus. Drunk Hell Passenger muttered something about my arse. I staggered down the bus a few seats, sat down and started crying with frustration and anger. I hate confrontation - it always makes me cry.

I sat there weeping and writing a Twitter DM to the bus company's account advising them of what had occurred. They quickly replied, wanting to know if I felt safe and did I want the driver to talk to the woman. They also asked if I wanted the police to meet the bus at the next stop. I let them know that I didn't require the police and that it was best if the driver didn't try and talk to the woman again. I just wanted them to know that he'd done nothing wrong if they received a complaint from Drunk Hell Passenger. They said they'd call the driver at the next stop and have a chat to him. Their response was great - they'd seen my tweet from earlier in the journey when I'd had a moan about the downgraded service, and after this incident they apologised for my terrible journey and said they'd see if their customer service team could do something nice for me.

When we reached the next stop - my final destination - I made sure Drunk Hell Passenger got off before me. A couple of young women, who'd been sitting in front of us, grabbed my arm as I passed and asked if I was OK. As I gathered my bag from the driver I let him know I was the one who'd contacted the company to let them know what had occurred. He thanked me and shrugged. "It's nothing."

I greeted my family who were there to pick me up. I'd kept them apprised of what had been occurring while in transit. As we walked to the car who should we see walking towards us but Drunk Hell Passenger. I whispered to my sister, "That's her. Watch this." As she passed us - three Gingernuts - I leaned over and sweetly said. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip." She barely glanced up as she said "Get fucked!".

The next day I received an email from the bus company, apologising again for what I'd gone through and refunding my fare for that part of the journey. They also thanked me for standing up for their driver. That was an outcome I was very happy with - their communications throughout had been exceptional.

But it was with some nervousness that I waited for my bus home a week later. Would I get the 'gold' seat I'd booked? Would Drunk Hell Passenger be on board?

I did get my luxury reclining seat - a single seat all to myself. I had a wall charger for my phone and tablet. I had a tray. I had free wifi. I had an armrest and seatbelt. I wouldn't have to dangle a bum cheek in the aisle and hang on for dear life! And, best of all, I had the same lovely driver. As I boarded our eyes met and we grinned at each other. "I hope we don't have any crazies on board today" I said. He rolled his eyes. Later, at our afternoon tea stop, he came over and talked with me. When I told him she'd reeked of alcohol he said if he'd realised that he would have put her off the bus. She'd continued on the next part of the journey with him, muttering to passengers. But he said he'd dealt with worse and it was all in a day's work. I hope for his sake he never gets a decapitating cannibal on board.

Student flats

My daughter recently moved into her first student flat. It's in a part of town close to the university and renowned for its student flats. I googled the address when she told me about it and, as I zoomed in on the map, I was hoping her flat wasn't in one of the houses I first spotted. It was. It looked it might get sunlight for about an hour in mid-Summer.

Unfortunately, Google Maps didn't prepare me for the worst. It was only when we moved her in that we discovered the steepness and narrowness of the street. We'd hired some movers to take her bed, dresser and desk from home and it was well worth the money not to be the ones trying to manoeuvre a van and find a nearby parking spot. Fortunately we'd found a spot right outside and when the movers turned up - from the wrong direction, despite my instructions - we moved our car out for them to park. Compared to some places in town, the path from the street to the house wasn't too bad - a dozen steps, and a switchback, broken path. We lugged her boxes down to the house and let the movers do the big stuff. Of course her room was in the back of the house. I did mutter to the moving guy not to worry about hitting the walls on the way through - I doubt you could damage the house more.

The house is at least a hundred years old and it's wearing its age badly. The boards of the front porch are on the ground. My daughter's room is a reasonable size with high ceilings and a skylight - perfect for heat dissipation. The floor isn't level and, until she got some mats, she had to hold on to her desk to stop her chair careering across the floor. She showed me the rest of the flat and the floors are consistently inconsistent in level. The bath in the bathroom outside her room is tear-drop shaped and quite possibly original. Tacked on the back of the house - on the 'sun-ward' side - is a ramshackle conservatory used for 'smoking'. When she first told me about the flat she kept referring to it as an 'observatory'. Fortunately the flat has some redeeming features. There's a woodburner in the lounge, an ancient dishwasher in the kitchen, and a drier in the laundry! They also have two fridges but are debating if they can afford to plug both in. The drier is a necessity but two fridges is a luxury.

Thinking back to my university days I realised it wasn't a lot worse than my final flat. I'd had the luxury of private boarding in my first year, and flatting with a working relative in my second year. That flat had been pretty nice. It was only in my third year that I regressed to a truly seedy classic student flat. It was an old house opposite a brewery. Many unsuccessful plans were made to tunnel across the road and run a beer-hose into the flat. I can't recall how many bedrooms the house might have had originally - mine was subdivided (surely illegally) to create a passage way through to a sun-porch when our resident arsonist lived. I could barely swing a cat in my room but it was of a similar size to both my bedroom at home and the sun-porch I'd boarded in during my first year. Other flatmates had more generously sized rooms - one managed to fit a king-sized waterbed in hers! Nine of us lived in that place somehow.

We had two bathrooms - one most of us never used as the boys in the flat did a poor job of cleaning it. The pubic hairs in the drain were possibly sentient. The other bathroom was off the lounge. This was the bathroom we discovered the cat liked using. We had inherited a black cat called Mephistopheles from a previous tenant who was rumoured to be a witch. This cat was quite possibly her familiar. It used to climb the walls at times - although that could have been also due to the pot smoke it ingested while hanging out with one of the flatmates in his room.

One day we were 'studying' in the lounge when we saw the cat walk through to the bathroom, heard the sound of urinating in the toilet, and then saw the cat stroll back out. We looked at each other in disbelief then went to check. Sure enough, the surface water of the toilet was disturbed. We were intrigued and determined to catch it in action. And we did. Some weeks later we saw the cat heading through the lounge and into the bathroom. A flatmate and I crept to the door of the bathroom and peered around. There was Mephistopheles perched on the loo seat peeing in the toilet. He was not impressed to be caught at it and fled...without wiping or flushing.

So I wish my daughter well in her student flat. The first thing I made her put up in her room was a smoke detector though. I was pleased when she told me they also have an extinguisher and fire blanket. I also slipped a four-pack of toilet paper into her packing. Loo paper is always tradeable. She's looking forward to seeing sunlight briefly in January...if she's home from her part-time job in time.