On the day:
03/09/2012
On the way:
A 136 bus. Lewisham. 11.23. Monday night.
"You are troubleman."
It's inevitable. The pervading influence of London's summer of love - the Olympic/Paralympic elation, the fellow feeling of following the same team and of cheering on the valiant opposition, of celebrating the bodies both beautiful and broken, the competitors in their countries' colours and the cheerleaders in pink and purple all putting in performances worthy of pumping up collective pride - has had over the city got to reach its limit somewhere.
"Don't tell me how to do my job," responds the driver, four inches from fury.
The beige man with the long scraggly beard covers the distance with the ease of an arrow from the bow of an Olympic archer. "You troubleman," he reiterates.
And hits the bullseye.
There follows a frank discussion of what the responsibilities of bus drivers do and categorically do not include. And of what passengers can and cannot reasonably expect and express in the event that they are disappointed with the public transport experience.
Which is all very edifying, even when witnessed from a bus-length away, but what have we really learned today? We have learned that the feelgood factor does not extend to a 136 bus, in Lewisham, at 11.23 on a Monday night.
On the pod:
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