Love Isn't A Kiss. Love Is Holding On!

It was fifteen minutes late.

The bus!  It was fifteen minutes late.

By the time we reached the halfway point - where the new driver boards - we were twenty five minutes late.

Just another day on the bus, you might think, but no! Today we were treated with a novice driver's on his first solo outing.  Oh, the ride was smooth, carried out with precision and, dare I say it, a certain style (he sang the My Way as he drove), but he was so slow!

The new driver; the one that got on at the halfway point, (a grizzled, silver-haired man-mountain) did not look impressed as he took control of the bus.

We flew through the narrow streets of Porth, the bus swaying, swerving and skidding like a Formula1 racing car (that'll be an Indy 500 car for OTPD's*), finally reaching our destination (Pontypridd) a mere seven minutes behind schedule.

You should have seen the faces of those folks at bus-stops he didn't bother to stop at.

During the journey ... the first and more relaxing part ... I did manage an observation or two.

Firstly, there was the pimply-faced youth listening to his i-pod.

He wore shorts and, as the driver kept forgetting to close the door, he must have been freezing as the blast of cold air blew straight up to the back of the bus (where we sat) turning it into a mini, mobile Siberia.  There was a quiet tinkling, an occasional clang and the sound of tiny, squeaky voices which led  me to believe that a miniature stepladder had found it's way into his scrotum and two very cold testicles were attempting to evacuate the scrotum for the warmth of the place from whence they came.

Next there was the huge, dark-haired harridan with hooves that stamped her way up the aisle and sat just in front of us. I say 'hooves' because that's how it seemed. Her calf-length boots were both unzipped and folded down and forward thus covering her feet making them look like hooves. She was a big woman and the word 'buffalo' sprung to mind.  She talked to herself. She recited her shopping list aloud, sometimes mentally adding an item with a "Oh, yes! I could do with some of those and maybe a ...".

Anyway, at her stop, as she got up from her seat, she managed to drop one of her plastic bags, of which she had several, into the aisle.
As she bent to retrieve it, I swear to God I heard the millions of atoms that made up the material of her leggings clearly scream "Oh No! Not again!" as they struggled to contain her oversized and gelatinous buttocks. The black material of her leggings was stretched to the extreme, revealing the pink colour of her expansive underwear.

It was not a sight that I would care to witness again!  I'm pretty sure I'm going to need therapy for post traumatic stress!

Thirdly, on the second half of our journey, which I almost described as 'hair-raising' (but didn't, seeing as I'm still bald, that would have been untrue. And I always tell the truth!), was memorable due to a young couple who were standing (the bus was full at this time) in the space reserved for wheelchairs.  They were all over each other and were seemingly deeply in love.

Then it all went pear shaped!

He was leaning against the window.
She stood facing him, her back to the aisle, and he had his arms around her waist.
They were in the process of sucking each others faces from their heads.
The bus pulled away from a bus-stop and into main stream traffic.
The driver accelerated, only to be thwarted by someone pulling out in front of him and taking his priority.
The driver slams on the brakes.
We all shoot forward.
Our two love-puppies also shoot forward.
The young man lets go of his girl friend's waist and grabs a hand rail.
There is a sound.
"Thwupppp"!
Their lips are pulled apart.    
She shoots sideways sown the aisle screaming.
He watches, as we all do.
She, now two rows further forward, grabs a hand rail.
She turns and falls backwards over the lap of a somewhat surprised, but now very happy, old man.
He tries to help her up.
She screamed again and uttered a series of expletives punctuated by "perv" and "dirty old man".
We all laugh.
She stamps back to her boyfriend, demands to know why he let go of her, then she punches him in the shoulder before he can reply.

Everyone on the bus was sniggering.  It was hardly surprising when they got off at the next stop.






* OTPD = Over The Pond Dwellers