In a country where so many of the once-public amenities are now privatised and thus in the hands of some would say mercenary entrepreneurs, travelling on buses and trains can be a bit of a dubious challenge.
Here in Bristol, the buses are run by one giant transport firm. This firm, active in many parts of the western world, has a near-monopoly on public transport in the region; thereby nullifying the notion that privatisation necessarily means more choice for the consumer. Every now and then a new outfit tries to run one or two measly bus routes but before long the heavies are sent round by the giant bus firm and this brazen putative rival is put out of business.
So, we pay a large sum for a bus service that, frankly, leaves something to be desired. All in all, I’m not one for moaning and griping and I don’t think the service is very bad. It’s just that it’s not very good and very expensive at that.
Some of the drivers are good sorts; friendly, courteous, smartly-dressed in uniform, shirt and tie, helpful and customer-aware; and, doubtless long-suffering as some of the abuse that a frustrated public heaps on them is downright nasty. These are the lucky ones.
Some other drivers just grunt as you say ‘Good morning’ to them. For these sullen souls the term ‘jobs worth’ could have been coined with special distinction. The travelling public consists mainly of commuters, or, if you’re unlucky, of families of chavs returning to the suburbs from a shopping spree in the city centre.
I often get away with not having to have someone next to me. It’s usually not that busy. I tend to open any window that’s not open when I board the bus as certain members of the ‘Great Unwashed’ are indeed hygienically challenged, to put it mildly.
It is often said that you get a lot of freaks and weirdos on the bus. This section of the populace is usually represented with one or two delegates. And it always amazes me to find that most ‘strange’ or unusual people are very sociable, in fact extremely so. They always feel the need to direct their chatty ravings to an unsuspecting fellow passenger who probably had a hard day at the office and just wants to get home.
Sometimes I’ll listen to some music (not too loudly) on my MP3 player. Or I’ll cast a weary eye on the pages of the free newspaper. Traffic notwithstanding I usually arrive at my destination before I know it, more or less ready to tackle another day at work.
Can’t wait for the day when we can start commuting to work by means of a jetpack engine strapped to our backs. But no doubt there will be problems and frustrations with that mode of transportation as well…
Here in Bristol, the buses are run by one giant transport firm. This firm, active in many parts of the western world, has a near-monopoly on public transport in the region; thereby nullifying the notion that privatisation necessarily means more choice for the consumer. Every now and then a new outfit tries to run one or two measly bus routes but before long the heavies are sent round by the giant bus firm and this brazen putative rival is put out of business.
So, we pay a large sum for a bus service that, frankly, leaves something to be desired. All in all, I’m not one for moaning and griping and I don’t think the service is very bad. It’s just that it’s not very good and very expensive at that.
Some of the drivers are good sorts; friendly, courteous, smartly-dressed in uniform, shirt and tie, helpful and customer-aware; and, doubtless long-suffering as some of the abuse that a frustrated public heaps on them is downright nasty. These are the lucky ones.
Some other drivers just grunt as you say ‘Good morning’ to them. For these sullen souls the term ‘jobs worth’ could have been coined with special distinction. The travelling public consists mainly of commuters, or, if you’re unlucky, of families of chavs returning to the suburbs from a shopping spree in the city centre.
I often get away with not having to have someone next to me. It’s usually not that busy. I tend to open any window that’s not open when I board the bus as certain members of the ‘Great Unwashed’ are indeed hygienically challenged, to put it mildly.
It is often said that you get a lot of freaks and weirdos on the bus. This section of the populace is usually represented with one or two delegates. And it always amazes me to find that most ‘strange’ or unusual people are very sociable, in fact extremely so. They always feel the need to direct their chatty ravings to an unsuspecting fellow passenger who probably had a hard day at the office and just wants to get home.
Sometimes I’ll listen to some music (not too loudly) on my MP3 player. Or I’ll cast a weary eye on the pages of the free newspaper. Traffic notwithstanding I usually arrive at my destination before I know it, more or less ready to tackle another day at work.
Can’t wait for the day when we can start commuting to work by means of a jetpack engine strapped to our backs. But no doubt there will be problems and frustrations with that mode of transportation as well…
2 comments:
Yeah, Lionheart, there'll be a price hike on jetpack fuel or the batteries will cost an arm & a leg or something. Whatever way the "powers that be" can find to squeeze us little guys...and transportation to and from work is definitely something they can squeeze us over.
Sorry about the bus problems. On the other hand, you definitely wouldn't want to try riding the bus in the US. Sheesh! That is, if you have bus service available. I'd have to drive 12 miles, pay to park my car, and then catch the bus. And I don't live out in the country, either.
Thanks for your comment, Willow. Much as I like to complain about the quality of public transport, at least I don't have to navigate the manic city centre rush hour traffic in my own car. I just sit back and let the driver do all the work..
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