You can slap me; I’ve been terrible with these comments. 
I’m two blogs behind… no, wait. Three.
Anyway, I promised Vicky that I’d blog about my weird bus driver. I know most of you are probably sick of me talking about my bus and Gekko and my life in general, but it’s my blog, savvy. 
I guess… one thing about my driver is that he is very safety conscious (to put it nicely). This means that he storms up and down the aisle demanding you put on your seatbelt, sit down, shut up, whatever.
Now, let it be known, I am very aware that you should wear your seatbelt and not stand up when the bus is in motion. I stay seated during the journey but I don’t bother with a seat belt. After all, it’s my fault if I’m injured in a crash. I put the belt on when it’s icy or when the driver is a fucking maniac and drives around corners so fast the bus is on two wheels.
Moving on. So, this is one aspect of his weirdness. Another is that he plays the radio… so fucking loud that you can barely hear yourself think.
Y’know? I don’t mind some radio on the bus. It’s fine. I have an iPod to listen to because I don’t like most the stuff on Radio 1. However, most bus drivers tend to keep it at a reasonable level.
This driver, however, insists on giving us all horrid headaches. And when a boy asks him if he can turn it down a bit, he snaps at him.
“The radio isn’t for your pleasure. It’s for mine.”
Yeah, fat guy. We get it. The boy responded with, “Yeah well… it’s a little loud.”
The bus driver glared at him and switched the radio off. Gee. Just turn it down a bit. C’mon, Mister, how can you drive properly with that infernal racket, anyway?
He also insists all calling us all ‘darlings’ when he yells at us. Yet when he says it he always looks disgusted and pained before he gets out the word, as if it tastes bad.
Did I mention he missed out my stop one morning – leaving ten or so people stranded – and now arrives there five minutes early as some kind of creepy way of proving that he can do his job properly? I mean, fuck’s sake. I know he waits until he is meant to leave the stop but what is the point?
I guess it doesn’t help that I go to an independent school; he probably thinks I’m some fucked-up snob just from the uniform I wear. And I’m the only one that says ‘thank you’ to this asshole when I get off.
I know this guy has a rubbish job. I know he obviously doesn’t like it. I know he struggles to earn a living through it. But he doesn’t have to be so… arrogant. I don’t expect a bus driver to not ask to put your belts on – as few do – but the general way he treats us is off-putting. Rude.
Yeah, yeah, you don’t have to lick my shoes or whatever but he needs to get some things sorted. I mean, apparently he looks up the girls’ skirts when they get on the bus.
That’s what I get for saying ‘thank you’. Life is cruel.