Club Med
I was determined not to walk all the way home.
You'd be hard-pressed to pick me from the line of medical students slumped against the bar. I'm in jeans, sneakers and an old T-shirt this morning, nursing a takeaway cappuccino with one hand and trying to settle the hair, looking like an apprenctice beaver dam, with the other. I imagine I must also seem quite disoriented, which is helping the illusion along.
The Goodyear I have taken Erik the Red to this morning would be no more than 4 k's from my house as the beaver flies. A mere skip, but it's hot and bright and the hills are steep and, anyway, I need to get home quickly so I can start putting off doing all the work I've put off until today. A savvy spender would, at this point, pit the cost of wasted time against that of private transport and call a cab, but I am Queen of False Economy and I like buses.
So. I walk 600m from the tyre place to the bus stop and discover I've just missed one. No matter - I'll walk up to the junction with the city road. It's only a little further. In fact, it'll be quicker anyway, because the buses that run along there will take me directly home without having to change to another service. Ah, but the footpath that leads up there has been torn up for roadworks. No matter. I'll walk around behind the football grounds. It's only a little further. I arrive, but the bus I need drives past me while I've got my back to the road deciphering the timetable. The next one isn't for 45 minutes.
Well, I don't want to wait that long. No matter - I'll walk along to the interchange station down the road. It's only a little further. In fact, it'll be quicker anyway, because now I think about it, if I change after two stops I can connect with a bus that drops me right outside my house rather than at the school.
While I'm doing this the mechanic rings. The "young lad" who booked the car in got it twisted - it's a slightly different part that needs replacing. That was me. I endure profuse apologies which turn out to be worse than the original confusion, hang up and double my efforts to get the hair under control. Please, it's 8:25 in the morning. I've only just got my heart started.
Finally get to the change stop and discover the next bus is 25 minutes away. No matter. There's the uni cafe just up the road. I'm dehydrated and starving and it's only a little further. In fact, it'll be quicker anyway, because then I won't have to have breakfast when I get home.
So, slumped against the bar with the med kids. Bacon, egg and cheese muffin and sucking at the cappuccino with infantile gusto. My bus is always, ALWAYS late, but just to be on the safe side I'll head up now, 10 minutes early. As I climb the stairs back to the road my head is suddenly level with the route number display of the bus that's passing. It's mine. The next one's in 35 minutes.
I walk the rest of the way home. It's only a little further.
posted by Magnificent Trout @ 12:31 pm
9 comments
9 Comments:
you must have been very disoriented... even forgot that you have friends living nearby who have got their own modes of transport and who would have helped out in a jiffy!!
Hey, weren't you at Sea World? :)
not at 8:25 in the morning!!
And aren't there others who are more than happy to pop across town - it'd be quicker anyway and you wouldn't have to worry about your hair. You could let it be blow dried, doggy-out-the-window style.
did people note the use of the plural in my first comment?
Ah yes, but you are far closer than I and there are others closer than I too - just reiterating. Don't be so picky - anyone would think you're bored and procrastinating!
it's what i do best.
:-)
Did I ever tell you about my longest journey back from uni as a student ?
It all started going wrong when I decided to go for a quiet early lunchtime drink with Wayne, the recovering alcholoic. Thing is, Wayne wasn't rushing into this recovery thing and felt that easing himself off was the key, wise man Wayne, we discussed many philosophical points during our steady and responsible drinking... over the next 12 hours.
At this point as the bar was closing anyway we bid fond farewells to the barmaid and other regulars and decided that we could get the same train home, it wasn't the normal train line I'd use, but as long as I didn't fall asleep I'd be able to get to my stop in a remote part of Liverpool, Hunts Cross.
Like all the best horror movies the one caveat applied is always the thing you inevitably do, you know the sort of thing, "don't go in the old barn", "don't let in any stangers", "try not to murder anyone with the chainsaw" what with the weight of that great tradition, and the 'beer effect' I, of course, fell asleep. Awakened when the train started to pull out of the unfamiliar and distant Runcorn station, with surprising agility I sprung from my seat rushed to the door and leapt to the platform just as the train started to move, my ungainly stumbled landing justified by at least having escaped the train going further.
The train jerked forward, stopped and made the steaming sigh of a train clearly stopping for the night, the confused looks of the other passengers who then casually stepped from the train and strolled past me showed they knew this staggered halt was the norm for this train, this is the point my long journey started. I examined the time table and found that no train was passing through back to Liverpool that night, so still clutching my bag from uni, I strolled to the station exit and stopped to make my first decision, left or right ? hmm Runcorn is East of Liverpool so turn left to head west ? maybe, who knows ? I could always ask someone the way later.
So at the first opportunity, I asked for the first time,
"Excuse me can you tell me the way to Hunts Cross ?"
and heard for the first time...
"Hunts Cross ? That's bloody miles away !"
This story goes on for a long time invloves, dubious characters, unusual invitations, gay flirting, loss, police interrogation, an unsual amount of bar equipment, angry dogs, a drugs raid, an unlikely offer of assitance, and it seems always, "Hunt's Cross, that's bloody miles away."
Maybe I'll tell the full version over a grog somewhere.
Love to make its acquaintance :)
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