I hate the bus

December 5, 2008 § Leave a comment

Warning. I’m going to rant a bit. Do not continue reading this post if you are likely to be offended by coarse language/if you are a bus driver/if you like the bus/or if you are a very old person.

As one may have guessed, I fucking hate the bus! I fucking hate waiting for the bus. I fucking hate getting on the bus. I especially fucking hate the bus stopping at every bus stop. I hope one day all buses will be banished from this earth.

Anyway, I hope you get how much I hate the bus. I spent the entire morning getting lost on one today. But how does one get lost on a bus? Easy actually. Don’t speak any Spanish. Sit ALL the way at the back of the bus so the driver can’t notice. Don’t pay attention. And, forget a map.

It was supposed to be a half hour ride to the city center, and I was told to get off at the last stop. But wait, there was NO last stop! The bus kept on going, and after an hour or so of going round and round all the barrios and to the farthest suburbs of Granada, I began to suspect something was wrong, as we even stopped at a place called Motril, nowhere near the city. So I went to the driver and sign-languaged him. He gave me a look and started to spew Spanish in a feverish manner. Good thing I didn’t understand, as I’m pretty sure he was saying ‘You fucking idiot! Were you sleeping at the back of the bus? Open your eyes! We stopped there AGES ago and you were too stupid to get off! Go and fucking learn some Spanish!’.

Ok then. I was beginning to get really irritated, and I wanted to pee. At times like these when I needed chocolate, I had none, damn it. Luckily a lady who spoke a bit of English got on the bus and all misunderstandings were resolved. A Really Old Bugger (ROB) sat next to me and it turned out he was also getting off at the same stop, so he could help me out. ROB smelled of old socks and garlic, and he liked to whistle randomly. When we finally got off the bus, he kept talking to me even though he knew I didn’t understand a word. I worked out ROB was trying to ask me if I was from China or Japan, because he brought me to a Chinese/Japanese restaurant. No no no! Um, no sir, Australia. Oficina turismo por favor! He didn’t understand and in the end we settled on ‘Americano’. No problem, as the important thing was to find a tourist office.

Found it! I had never been so happy to see one. Thanks ROB! He laughed at me and shuffled his garlicky self away. After that tremendous effort, I ended up spending less than an hour there due to siesta time at 2pm. Oh well, there’s always tomorrow…

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