Tennis, Chinese, Beer, Wine & Whiskey
I must say, I'm not a big bus fan. I wouldn't say there are no people with class on buses but wouldn't you agree there is quite a lot of riff raff? When it comes to night buses where you have the added pleasure of loud, obnoxious drunk folk, just what you need weary travel home. I'm moaning because I took the night bus home on Friday.
After a late dinner after tennis, a friend invited a few of us back to his house in Pimlico. Normally, I would tend to opt for the last train to avoid said night buses but this friend is heading back to Japan for good in a couple of weeks so I decided to tag.
Over recent months this friend has kept telling me that his wife is a 'fan' of my Japanese blog and that she'd like to meet me. Just by being told something like that you feel some kind of pressure. I started wondering what type of person she thought I was. Just like her husband had thought for about a year (!), she thought I was either Japanese or half-Japanese.
Night Bus
We ended up leaving at 3:30 and the three of us found our respective night bus stands at Victoria Station. At that moment a taxi approached and my two friends, who live very close to each other, jumped in and waved me farewell.
Apparently Friday night was the biggest night for company Christmas dos (is that a real word?) and there were lots of well dressed men and women waiting for courtesy cars outside the station. Besides these people a couple of tarted-up girls stood waiting for the same bus as me, complaining about the cold, which to be fair was biting. Another man chomped away at his kebab but seemed to leave half of it on the floor.
The highlight of the cold wait came when a couple of police officers walked up the street towards me. A taxi driver hooted his horn, turned on his hazard lights and came to an abrupt stop. He called the police over as evidentally he was having an issue with his passengers. The police got the two young lads out of the taxi and gave them a talking to. This was hardly thrilling but watching them argue was the best entertainment on offer.
The dispute got settled without any arrests - how dull - and the taxi drove off. The police approached a bag next to the bus stop. I had been avoiding standing too close to it, positioning myself behind other objects in a direct line with it - like that would help me if it were actually an explosive! There turned out to be nothing but clothes inside it, though this time I was please with the dull outcome.
After about 45 minutes to an hour later the bus I was waiting for finally decided to show up. It was packed and full of loud foreign students who felt the need to sing and talk nonsense non-stop. Oh joy.
I got to bed at 5 and thought to myself, 'Don't find yourself at Victoria Station, or anywhere in London for that matter, at 4 a.m. in the morning waiting for a night bus.' Haven't I said that before? Why do I have the feeling this won't be the last time?