One journey I will never forget was the one from Whiddon Valley to the Town Centre on bus 510. At quarter to nine in the morning, on a still and overcast day, the bus was filling rapidly at every stop. The hum-drum sound of the engine revving and the rattling parts filled the air as we bounced along the road. As we approached stop number three I could see a group of people patiently waiting to alight. As at every stop, the bus slowed to a halt and silenced before the slight whoosh sound of opening doors.
No sooner as the doors had finished the whoosh noise, a suited gentleman flew in head first at high speed. He appeared as if from nowhere; it was not immediately obvious that he had tripped as the passengers could not see the step for it was obstructed by the doors. He torpedoed into the bus at such a rate of knots it looked as though he must have had some sort of run up, or was possibly flung from a catapult. He splat-landed: face down, arms and legs sprawled out over the entire lower floor of the bus, his pinstripe suit laid out like artificial bat wings. His briefcase was still attached to the end of one arm, but he had lost his black umbrella which had speared the ‘buggies’ area, narrowly missing a child-in-pram and was wedged firmly in the seats.
This was hilarious to see because one simply did not expect to see it; people usually just step on.
After the initial shock, a few kind passengers rushed to help, not that there was much they could do. The poor man grappled to his feet in the most ungraceful fashion and brushed himself off in a state of pitiful embarrassment- as he sat down on the front seats, his face turned a deep pink raspberry shade, which I can well appreciate because to an on-looker the spectacle was absolutely hilarious.
Unfortunately for me, none of the other passengers seemed to share my amusement. Their genuine concern for the unfortunate character of this entertaining scene simply added to the comedy of the entire show. Stifling a laugh for the remaining twenty minutes of the journey became physically painful. Fearful that I would look like some troublesome whippersnapper if I let out so much as a snort, I developed an acute whole-body juddering interspersed with a bizarre whooping-cough and a manifestation of swollen cheeks and bulging eyes.
Amidst the laughter, the only option was to tense my lower lip and scrunch my nose in order to contort my smile into a look of wide-mouthed horror which was my attempt at a sad expression of remorse. This might have been a suitable face to pull for the initial one second of the incident, but fifteen minutes into the journey I don’t think my seizure-like symptoms were fooling anyone.
I caught the disapproving glance of a middle-aged woman who had a full-balcony view of my peculiar behaviour, and for the lack of any suitable alternative I immediately bit into the padded collar of my jacket like a rabid dog to avert the inevitable outburst that was about to follow.
Unsure of which way to look to avoid making eye-contact with the other stony-faced passengers, I found my line of vision darting wildly from one to the other and eventually out of the window, where I resorted to pressing my face firmly against the glass, all the while trying desperately to keep my head up and hands away from my mouth in a determined bid to appear normal. My continued attempts to stifle my laughter eventually plateaued into a sort of chronic panting.
I was certainly relieved when the bus eventually pulled into the bus station after what seemed like an eternity. I’ll never know what happened to the flying gent at the front, because the very moment the bus ground to a halt I leapt from my seat and darted to the doorway like a manic ferret and shot off behind the nearest shelter to laugh my stomach sore.
Geogger 