BUS TALES CHAPTER TWO

I love my bus rides.  A opportunity to unwind.  A chance to appreciate the beautiful ocean views, the blue skies, and the lush green tropical blooms and palm trees.  I can practice mindfulness, (not that I need to these days), or I can use the time to plan, and make lists.  More often, it is a time to daydream.

Bus rides also provide the best opportunities for people watching.  You get to see just how small this island really is - people get on the bus and exchange enthusiastic greetings with other islanders they haven't seen in awhile.  There seems to always be someone who sits up front with the driver to chat - with conversations that range from family catch ups, to  community news of "Did you see!", and "Did you know".  And even full blown debates on the state of the world.  

Then there are the tourists.  They climb on with a bewildered look, hesitatingly produce a ticket or bus pass that they hope will allow them on the ride. And always the questions - the bus driver definitely acts as a tour guide: "Next stop - Chrystal Caves - entrance is on your left through the green archway".   I have seen that backfire a few times when the poor bus driver has been distracted (usually talking to the person in the seat closest to him) - "Oops, the stop for Spittal Pond is about two back".  Some tourists are unceremoniously dropped at the nearest intersection, others are told to take another bus and reverse their journey.  Some kind drivers will stop the bus on the other side of the road and everyone will wait patiently until the tourists are back on track. 

Last week an older gentleman sat next to me and proceeded to nod off.  When he opened his eyes again, he exclaimed that he was supposed to get off at Grotto Bay - three stops back.  He got off at the next stop and commented to me that he would never hear the end of this from his friends who were now waiting for him back there. 

The funniest event - sitting behind two people - one young man is Bermudian, the other young man obviously a tourist.  Not a word between them until the tourist pipes up:  "Are you a native?"  Slight pause before the Bermudian replies: "No, I was born here".  Dead silence for the rest of the journey.  Certainly a commendation for good manners though.

Ah yes, and so the world turns.   
Happy travels everyone.