attack of the killer buses

I could have sworn I had another idea from my bus this morning to write about, but it's not coming to me now.  What is coming to me is the tale of how I just spent the last, oh, three hours on a variety of buses covering a distance that could have been covered by a car in roughly thirty minutes.

It all started, as most tales of such woe do, with running slightly late.  Not catastrophically late, just a smidge on the oh-we-really-ought-to-hurry-it-up-and-hope-all-goes-amazingly-according-to-plan side of late.  For once, I actually had company as I was traveling with Garry back to his conference in Chatswood.  I know, I know, everyone thought I just made up all my bus adventures, but not this one.  I have a solid one witness who can confirm everything went rather horrifically (and not-at-all-my-fault-edly) wrong.

Upon arriving at the bus stop, we learned that the first bus (of two) we needed was due out in 20 minutes.  Recall, if you will, that we were supposedly hurrying merrily, yet hurriedly, along.  20 minutes does not exactly improve this process.  Finally the bus came and for awhile all was well and good.

"What's it doing here?" Garry asked, as the bus turned into Royal North Shore Hospital.

"Oh, don't worry about that," I said drowsily, "It just does a loop here.  All the 144s do."

And the next thing I knew I was being shaken out of my contented back massage reverie to calls of "Kim, Kim, the bus is stopping here -- it doesn't go any further!"

I was shocked, but it turned out it was true.  All the other 144s do a lovely little loop-de-loop, but ours did merely a lovely little loop.  There were, though, I hasten to add, roughly half a dozen of us total who all expected the 144 -- as per its route -- to carry on to Chatwood, so the driver kindly offered to take us back to the station, which was a fine gesture and all, except that the station was back in the direction we'd come from and in doing so we missed the next 144 and had to wait what the automated text device assured us was 14 minutes, but what in reality was 20 minutes.  At which time not one, but two triumphant 144s showed up and took us on yet another exhilarating loop-de-loop before progressing onwards.  At that stage (the -de- of the looping, that is), we encountered yet another 144, which I assumed was the twin bus heading to Manly, seeing as it hadn't passed us previously, but which then too joined the two triumphant 144s en route to Chatswood in a merry little trio of devil-may-care-what-time-we-arrive-there buses.

Eventually we did and were only just off our 144 when we glimpsed a stealthily waiting 545, which was to be the next segment of our journey.  Now roughly an hour late, we sprinted for all we were worth and were just to the steps when the driver held up a hand and said,

"Sorry, guys.  Too late.  Grab the next one."

He thought he was hilarious.

And so eventually we arrived, Garry left and I waited 20 minutes for the next 545 to take me back to wait 20 minutes for the next 144 to take me back to loop-de-loop to my stop to walk home to blog copious amounts about how very much time I spent on a bus for a boy today.

Gosh I think I like him.