On the Buses

I don't mind getting the bus to work. I like people watching; not in any sort of a wierd way, just like watching the passers by or commuters go about their lives. I find it interesting how all these different lives overlap for a few minutes, united in the need or desire to get from A to B.

There's a few regulars on my bus route:

The Happy Lady. She gets on the bus a few stops after me and she's always smiling and happy, even if it's chucking it down with rain. She talks quite loudly but it's in a more confident than brash way.

The Chewing Girl. Probably what you would call a chav though a slightly diluted version, and can always here her chewing on some gum even if she's at the back of the bus.

The Strange Trampy Man. I don't care if this isn't PC. He is strange and he does look like a tramp. He always wears the same coat, and smells funny and he stares at people on the bus. He doesn't look all there and I feel pretty uncomfortable when he sits near by.

The Art Student. Always with a different hair do every day, and those rather gay leggings underneath a denim skirt which is meant to look retro but just looks crap. She always reads the newspaper on her way in.

Those are the regulars. Just last week though, at any one time, there was the campest man I have ever ever seen, someone with some sort of obsessive compulsive disorder AND a woman in labour on one bus journey.

Fascinating.