Near the bus stop, a group of males and females are laughing, chatting, holding vessels of alcohol. As the bus rolls in, the group hops in, each clutching Strongbow cider cans like weapons of mass destruction.
Seated on the upper deck of this red London bus, behind you, the gang laugh and talk animatedly.
Conversation trails off, slightly, when the six plus band scoop out food from bags and start feeding, delightfully.
Smell of cheap chicken and chips takeaway, fill the air. Sounds of chewing and swallowing, licking and passing air through teeth to whittle out stuck meat, is mixed with fast non-stop yakking and more laughter.
While the journey progresses there are regular sounds of belching and swallowing plus hearty laughter. Public transport is affordable, tiresome and easy and interesting but can also be tortuous.
Yes, torture.
You recall travelling through South America, decades ago. Long all night bus journey. Loud Latin music played through the bus. And in front of you a woman and her partner eating and drinking. Odour of food and alcohol.
As safari plods on, you hear them unlatching more beer cans. And each moment the drinking increases while the night darkens. Sensing it is getting late, the driver lowers down the volume of the cocktail of Merenge, Cumbia, Lambada, Salsa and Samba music, while the occasional snoring, decorates this voyage.
And as you doze off, the tropical heat intensifies; despite the air conditioner, you open your window. You notice the couple’s window likewise, widely unblocked to let the breeze in.
You doze off again, and while dreaming of something joyous and sweet your face is suddenly hit, aggressively. A sharp splash of warm food, beer and moist saliva. You notice one of the two (ahead) has been vomiting through the window. And because of the wind and speeding vehicle, it is swashing, spattering and ricocheted right into your aghast face. Quickly, shut the window.
Dash to the toilet; sprinkle water, soap; clean up. Yet the feeling and disgust never leaves you for the rest of that journey, the rest of that season and…
Till tomorrow and next year; you shall never, ever forget.
May we have a happier times.
Airoroki, if you speak Kima’asai.
