Now that I spend about four hours a day on the road in city buses, I see several strange things happening, but I'll compile all that and put it in a separate post. This is about one of my scariest bus rides ever. It ended in an anti-climax, but that didn't make it any better.
It was just another morning at the terminus, except that I had to wait longer than usual for the bus. Of course, once it arrived, it turned out that that was the one half the people on the platform were waiting for. I stood frozen for a moment, trying to choose between getting crushed while trying to enter and waiting goodness-knows-how-long for another bus. I decided to go for it, because how could I be sure that the crowd awaiting the next bus wouldn't be the same, or worse?
I took a deep breath and ran to the door in the centre for two reasons:
1) Double doors let people enter more quickly, even though the crowd there is bigger.
2) Men push women less than women push women. Maybe it's because they feel we're less competent, but whatever - it works to my advantage. Women scratch and hit and do nasty things. True story.
I made it to the only vacant seat in the bus. I secretly congratulated myself, and then noticed the guy sitting next to me. This is what he looked like, roughly: skinny with a stubble, looking very disturbed, and reeking of alcohol (which I didn't bother trying to show in this picture)
He looked so awkward that I initially thought he was mentally challenged, but when I realized he wasn't, I started getting a little worried. He had something like a toy cassette player which he kept holding up to his ear.
It was just another morning at the terminus, except that I had to wait longer than usual for the bus. Of course, once it arrived, it turned out that that was the one half the people on the platform were waiting for. I stood frozen for a moment, trying to choose between getting crushed while trying to enter and waiting goodness-knows-how-long for another bus. I decided to go for it, because how could I be sure that the crowd awaiting the next bus wouldn't be the same, or worse?
I took a deep breath and ran to the door in the centre for two reasons:
1) Double doors let people enter more quickly, even though the crowd there is bigger.
2) Men push women less than women push women. Maybe it's because they feel we're less competent, but whatever - it works to my advantage. Women scratch and hit and do nasty things. True story.
That little red spot is me. See it? I won't be surprised if you don't...
I made it to the only vacant seat in the bus. I secretly congratulated myself, and then noticed the guy sitting next to me. This is what he looked like, roughly: skinny with a stubble, looking very disturbed, and reeking of alcohol (which I didn't bother trying to show in this picture)
He looked so awkward that I initially thought he was mentally challenged, but when I realized he wasn't, I started getting a little worried. He had something like a toy cassette player which he kept holding up to his ear.
Worrier that I am, I thought up half a dozen things he might be doing. As you may guess, none of the hypothetical situations was exactly reassuring. Then it got even creepier. He sat there and started to violently pull at his eyelashes!!!!
By this point, I was completely convinced that I was sitting next to a serial killer. I didn't think he was going to blow up the bus right then or do any such thing, but I was really, really scared. However, if I got up from my seat, I'd be squished between several other people. At least this way I was somewhat comfortable physically, and to be fair to the guy, he was keeping to himself, and yes, my imagination runs wild sometimes. So I sat there, hoping he would get off the bus soon. But he didn't.
And after many minutes of terror (for me), he cranked up the volume on his toy-ish music player. Yes, it turned out to be a real music player after all. It just played music
Break-up songs! He was listening to break-up songs! Everything made sense now. He was just some guy who recently broke up with his girlfriend or something. I silently thanked my stars for giving me a less scary explanation about the guy. Not that it ruled out the possibility of him being a serial killer, but still, less scary.
Three-fourths into the journey, I found a vacant seat up ahead and sat there. I don't know what happened to the guy. I suppose it doesn't matter, as long as he didn't/doesn't actually kill anyone.
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