When buses are theatre with windows

By Julian Sudre

EACH time I step on the bus is to realize that I did not wave my magic wand fast enough to vividly get thrust onto a zone of no-comfort – an intrusion of the other class – or more appropriately my stepping on the bus is an intrusion per se.

The predictable wait without live departure boards deliberately needles the preface of my ride; and the bus rocks up: I jump into a jungle of people to strap hang and look for Jane until Tarzan -- moi – despairs after a session of eye-blinking to find relevance in the irrelevance.

Drip-fed by disquietness, I resolved to turn a breath of malaise into an inconspicuous, very-London bus ride that is, a vehicle of salient reality where the mass-produced “other world” lethargically slouched in its seat turns out to be human.

Buses, and even better, the bendy one from Oxford Circus is personally classified as bestial, rudimentary and chimp-manic. The latter, fittingly adapts to their way of communicating; did I say language?

Mind you, getting on-board, is a bit like winning the World Cup or going to Iraq without being shot down. The wait at the bus stop does not hold a candle to the actual being on the bus. Still, you’ll have to get on-board, one way or another. Don’t ask me how.
Then, can you find a seat, and if so, would you have the courage to have your trousers imbibed in the sweat of the squalid half-conscious reveller that reeks of his own vomit.

Saturday nights are a winner. I expect them with knitting needles, ready to jab my eyes and ears with exasperation. I should be, though counting myself lucky while my bus rides are more exhilarating than a safari in Kenya. I do not have to pay for the plane ticket.

I do not believe that men have grasped their origins, to some extent. To a large extent, going on a safari in East London will prove that the evolution has been minimal thanks to the buses.

Again, the enjoyment out of it, is to comprehend that theatres were made for men and buses were designed for voyeurs of the animal kingdom.

When buses turn into theatres, then ask the driver what it makes of it.