I glanced in the direction the bus would be coming from. No bus, but I did notice a couple of young women walking along the footpath. One of them locked eyes with mine so I looked away quickly, peering up at the tall buildings which were yellow from the setting sun. I focussed on the large windows of one building, trying to work out if they were square or just a little off. The latter seemed more likely, especially taking into account the shape of the entire structure. Behind the buildings the sky was a dark blue, filled with approaching storm clouds. I hoped the rain would wait until I got home, where I could watch it fall out my own window.
I looked down again, trying to catch another glance at the woman walking by. She was about sixty centimetres away when I goggled her, which I'm sure made her feel a little uncomfortable. I looked away, back to the building, giving serious consideration to crossing the road and taking a closer look at the dimensions of one of the lower windows.
Some yellow flashed into the corner of my eye. I turned my head and read the number: the 254, my bus. Another bus, the 222, was already at my stop, taking on passengers. Hopefully my bus wouldn't get here until the 222 was gone so I wouldn't be put in the awkward position of deciding whether to wait at the stop itself or walk to the bus waiting behind. Some drivers would not open the doors until they were at the actual stop, which was the correct way from my understanding. But the throngs of soon-to-be passengers would rush to the bus, realise it was not letting people on, and shuffle back awkwardly.
Thankfully I wasn't put in that position as the 222 pulled away, leaving room for the fast approaching 254.
I looked each way, waiting until there was a gap in the passing pedestrians before walking to the scraggly queue. It wasn't really in the order in which we arrived at the stop but I let that pass – it had been a long day.
I stood just outside the bus, waiting behind an old gentleman. He was extremely slow and I could sense the exasperation of others around me. You need to give old people more time – it's not their fault that they struggle do things at an optimum rate.
Peering down at my ticket, I pointed it in the right direction so that it would enter the correct way into the ticket machine and not embarrass me with an “Egh” sounding beep.
I stepped up onto the bus. The old man had only just passed the driver. I turned my head and got a quick sense of how full the bus was.
The machine was on the right hand side, as you walk down the aisle, which is prejudiced against left handers. Sometimes I remember enough to use my left hand, but on this occasion I subconsciously used my right, which meant a false start in placing my correctly faced ticket into the machine. On the second go it went in fine and I looked up at what faced me.
Looking to the rear first, I could discern a lack of free complete double seats; each taken by at least one person. My eyes zigzagged down to the front of the bus where a couple side-facing seats were available. It's not easy to determine the best seating position, but what follows is my rough guide.
The optimum seating position is one where you are:
- facing forwards;
- alone;
- toward the back;
- not directly behind the exit doors nor over a wheel.
With this in mind, a handicap score can be given to any spare seat available. To determine the best seat, you simply solve for the lowest value.
The points system is as follows (lower is better):
Seat | Pts | Reason |
Side-facing | 5 |
|
Back-facing | 6 |
|
Shared | 5 |
|
(w/ugly female) | +1 |
|
(w/attractive female) | +2 |
|
(w/large person) | +5 |
|
(w/small person) | -1 |
|
(w/sick person) | +5 |
|
(w/child) | +5 |
|
Behind middle-doors | 1 |
|
Atop back wheel | 1 |
|
Front seats | 2 |
|
Middle seats | 1 |
|
Articulated buses have a few more options but the principle is the same.
My quick scan of this particular bus showed five spare seats, at least at first glance. The first two of which were side-facing seats (so an automatic five points). One of these would entail sitting next to an unattractive older woman (five points for shared, plus one for ugly female, giving a total of eleven). The other was sitting next to a school kid (five for shared, plus five for child, giving total of fifteen).
The old man shuffled aside, into one of these side-facing seats, rendering the first of my options moot. I took another step and chanced a second glance at the choices remaining.
The next spare seat was about half way down (+1), shared with a normal person (+5), and behind the exit doors (+1), giving a total of seven points. The best seat so far.
I took another step, heading in that general direction. If nothing else stood out, this would be my seat.
The fourth spare seat was toward the back. I wasn't sure if it was over a wheel or not. Sitting there would mean sharing (+5) with a female I considered quite attractive (+2). If in doubt, especially when scores are even, always head further back. That's my motto. Unfortunately this particular situation was lacking all required data. I had to make a decision soon as I was nearing the seat behind the exit doors. I paused a moment and, without craning my neck or drawing undue attention to myself, tried to make out the situation with the final seat. For some reason the angle had changed and I couldn't see it any more.
I passed the middle seat and decided to keep on going. You don't make it in this world by not taking chances.
The fifth seat turned out to be non-existent. A passenger must have been bending down, or perhaps to the side, which made them impossible to see. It was the fourth seat or nothing.
I approached the attractive woman with respect and mild reproach. Her eyes flickered over toward me and then straight ahead, lips firm.
My own eyes tracked down to the floor. As I took another step my heart sunk – the large cylindrical shape of metal poked out below the seat, curving down like a high foot-rest. A wheel-seat!
For a moment I contemplated turning back, quickly jumping into the more comfortable middle seat. But since that would draw too much attention, I knew I had no choice but to sit in the wheel-seat.
I slowly bent and sat on the seat, sheepishly edging over so that I wasn't completely on the end. I made sure to leave a bit of room between myself and the woman. My expression was one of apology, but I knew she would think I chose the seat because of her. If it was socially acceptable I would have explained the situation, the little faux-pas on my part. We could have had a little laugh and that would be that. But in the world we live in, that kind of thing just doesn't work. At least not in my experience.
The bus clattered along, somehow turning the smooth road bumpy. I tried to examine the woman's body language. Was she recoiled by me? Or did she not really mind my presence? I couldn't discern an answer either way.
The rain started hitting the windows, becoming heavier very quickly. I sat quietly, without moving.
I knew I shouldn't have taken chances.
© 2010 Ben Safta
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 Australia License
