Note: I spy a lot of things while on the bus.
It’s a run-of-the-mill Wednesday. Nothing stands out especially clearly: sometimes the bus is packed to capacity, but right now it’s not and we’re zooming towards the station where people will transfer to trains.
In the background, at every stop, I can hear the driver greeting each passenger. He doesn’t know them by name, but groups of women get “Good morning, ladies.” A single man will be greeted with “bro” or “mate”, and a single woman boarding – like myself – hears a “Hi, missy”. Sometimes he’ll ask how you are, and every time he lets people off he wishes you a good day.
It’s a shame there’s not longer to chat. He seems a friendly sort, always looking like he’s about to start smiling about something and ready for a good chat. You can picture him with a tea – or equally – a beer, having a yarn or watching the rugby with mates.
This morning, a woman boards and she hops into the front seat to the right. I’m a couple of seats back, and I see her craning her view. In the middle of the street, on the median strip, stands a guy. Tall, sort of scruffy. He’s waiting to cross, but he spots the woman who’s just boarded.
They wave to each other and blow kisses just before the bus leaves.