Traveling by bus for an extended period of time (more than 6 hours) is an interesting experience, to say the least, especially when surrounded by strangers, screaming children, and people incapable of basic human reasoning and/or morals. Take this anecdote for example; a woman boards the bus with her four children (though why a single woman with four children is taking a ten hour bus trip from Riviere du Loup, Quebec to Moncton, New Brunswick is beyond me-probably due to some budgetary restraints…but I digress). There are three people among six seats, each one sitting by themselves and each in close proximity to each other…and not one of them offers to move even though they all seem to know each other,
I don’t get it. Well I do, actually. I’d definitely rather sit by my lonesome and have two luxurious seats at my disposal than sit in a cramped chair with a stranger next to me. But, being unable to drive, I’ve become rather accustomed to sitting next to strangers on buses. You might forge the unlikeliest of allegiances and bonds, though more often than not, if you’re anything like me, you’ll probably just plug yourself in and try and zonk out. Not that I am capable of sleeping on the bus.
I think buses have it in for me. There are three young boys in the back talking loudly about their toy cars, no doubt engaged in a proverbial pissing contest. Whichever one is deemed more worthy shall be crowned King of the Toy Cars, muahaha!
One is named Jayden, another Austin, and the other Crosby (at least I think it was Crosby. It began with a C and had the letter S in it too therefore I am going to propose that his name is Crosby). I am unimpressed with their mother. She is currently sitting diagonally to my left. Perhaps I should scold her for her poor choice of names for her sons. Then again, perhaps not. Somehow I do not think she will care if her sons’ names meet the Perpetually-Cynical-Stamp-of-Disapproval and will simply be insulted.
[Edit: their names are Jayden, Isaiah, and Carter. There’s a fourth but he’s so quiet that the mother hasn’t had to scold him yet. He has been sitting patiently watching Cars 2 on a broken laptop. He has a sprained or broken wrist]
There are also two teenage girls sitting diagonally behind me, giggling and gossipping over something on their phones. I swear to god, if they have internet and I don’t I shall be very put out. The internet on this bus is a tease in thigh high platform patent leather boots and ripped fishnets. Also this bus smells funny. An unfortunate combination of feet and Cup-of-Noodles. It’s mildly nauseating. Gravol time.
Oh god Skunk.
Maybe I should try and sleep for a bit. My previous feelings, a combination of being awake and feeling like I can do all the things and should definitely try, are quickly ebbing and being replaced by a feeling of sleepy stupor. Also I am beginning to feel the effects of my computer’s broken fan on my legs. Perhaps I should avoid the second degree burns whilst stuck on a bus for 10 hours.
The Hunger has returned.
I must be bored.
The Boyfriend is greatly amused by this completely logical reasoning.
The Middle of Nowhere is not an interesting place. I see train tracks and tired people and more tired people and more train tracks. And a Shopper’s Drug Mart. I muse for a moment on the stringent language policies of Quebec before coming to the conclusion that, because I am somewhat perfectly bilingual, I don’t actually give a shit. It’s just mildly interesting to see signs first in English and then in French out here in the boonies of Moncton, New Brunswick.
I don’t know how, but somehow I managed to put more lettuce on one side of my turkey sandwich than the other. This uneven distribution is unnecessarily irritating.
Can we get back on the bus already?