Bus Rage

Sometimes you are on the bus and cute girls get on. So out come the iPod earphones and on turns the eavesdropping/hotness quotient radar. The girls are boring, your eyes rove the street to the right. The mysterious factory you pass each morning passes by in the afternoon, somewhat as though it's following you around, setting itself down at the exact moment you pass that spot and then picking itself up on long spindly robotic legs and going on its way. It ejects people, both young and old. The scary part is that they all look like they work in telecommunications. Why can I smell these things? My suspicion is that this is a secret factory for 3 mobile. Well 'HA' suckers! I'm onto you, I know all about you're little mobile robot 3 factory!

And then he starts talking. His voice stands out in any crowd here. It's nasally, overbearing and vibrates self importance. He talks down to another passenger. Explains how hard it can be living in another country. And how you should only talk to people who want to talk to you (the irony brings a smile to my face and a razor to my throat), that's the way to get ahead. At this point I'm wondering whether Doctor Phil can actually possess people across whatever ocean lies between us. He's spewing that kind of vapid filth. The razor's beginning to really pinch now.


And then he says it. You can't trust anyone. And you need to find someone you can trust. Well, it's basic, and lacks any true philospophical insight, but there are elements of truth to it. But wait... there's more! Apparently, there is someone you can always trust. Hallelujah! I was beginning to get worried. And then his speech goes the one place we all fear.

"There's only one person you can really trust. And that's the man upstairs."

Now I'm not the fastest supervisor. Nor the smartest. 133 remember? I'm way down the pecking order. At first I thought? What man? Surely he realises that there's only one floor on a bus in Melbourne. Or is he talking about one's boss? And then the delay subsides. Oh. The man upstairs. Got it. It was about that moment that I felt the small trickle running down my chest turn into a torrent.