#7 Dee Why to Downtown Bus Trips – A Diary of Stuff that Popped into My Head One Week.

Going – Friday, 7.04a.m., 9 December 2011

Shiny sun. The sun shines at me and the bus’s radio is on – the bus driver is going very fast. A rogue driver we have. That’s okay, we shouldn’t be late then. The song playing is Real Life’s Send Me an Angel from the early eighties – is this bus driver on a suicide mission? If so, with him he’ll take down an almost full load of commuters, including me – but my weekend hasn’t even started yet.

He’s turned the volume down, I think he’s gone off his suicidal boil. My weekend is preserved.

They always have to get out in front, don’t they? Our blue bus rolled up to the red lights. Three motorbikes with madmen squeezed past the halted blue and the surrounding sedans to stop out in front of everyone else. They always have to be ahead. Do they realise they’re only racing up before everyone else to be placed behind whatever lays ahead? So, really they’re always the first to be last.

Stainless steel luggage rack enclosure, moulded rubber wraps the window panes, hard plastics all shapes, painted metal components, concave shimmering rear-view mirrors, sheets of rigid glass and multi-coloured carpet padded seats. You need a lot of materials to construct a bus.

Throw in a tinny sounding radio and a rogue bus driver and you’ve got a killing machine. Add some commuters, a couple of leading actors, a director, a flimsy script and a wad of money and you have a movie.

I hope over the weekend someone sweeps and mops this bus floor – it’ll make me feel so much better. Get rid of the black scuff marks, dried, caked up brown mud deposits, random pieces of what look like desiccated grass pieces and all the boot prints. Let’s begin next week fresh and clean. Whadda you think?

#6 Dee Why to Downtown Bus Trips – A Diary of Stuff that Popped into My Head One Week.

Returning – Thursday, 4.42p.m., 8 December 2011

There are sharks in there. Bull sharks. They’re particularly aggressive them bulls. We’re travelling over the Harbour Bridge and the gently rippled water is gazing at me with its watery, blue eyes. We’re floating over this salty expanse and it wraps me up like a comforting blanket, memories of good times at the water, any water – the beach. I bet there are some sharks on this bus as well nice people. There are always sharks around – they can be difficult to spot, other times you clearly see their big, white, sharp teeth, their trademark fins and menacing intentions.

Has the bus become my second office? Although only three days so far, it seems like I’ve been writing for a lot more. So enjoyable and sure beats being a cardboard-like traveller.

I hope the guy to my left is extremely important or very well paid because he’s working on this bus like he’s in his office. Laptop’s open and on. Already three mobile phone calls. The first one was, “Thanks, Alex, can you shore up a time for that meeting?” Shore up. There’s an expression new to me for this context. Sounds like bullshit office talk.

The next call he thanked someone for their “great efforts”, and the last one included, “Okay, can you keep me up to date and let’s see if we can finish it by Friday?” I guess he’s saying all the right things.

He’s been very busy typing and just now checked his mobile phone for messages. Has God left a message for me?

Christ. Now it’s Dave. “Hi Dave” he answers – and without me even noticing, somehow he disappeared the laptop and the iPad is now nestled between his pin-stripe-trouser-covered legs. Modern technology is so wonderful and portable.

It’s also a fucking pain in the arse. Put all your toys away and be quiet.

Is hypocrisy sneaking in here? I did say the bus seems to have become my second office. I’m only putting my jottings to journal – can’t see how that would annoy anyone. Would it?

“Psst. Look at that guy over there scratching away in his lame, little journal. Why doesn’t he join the 21st century and get himself an iPad or something”

We’ve stopped at Warringah Mall. People file into the bus like a stream of dedicated ants on a mission. It does’t seem to end. Standing room only now.

Mickey Mouse just leaped out at me from an Asian lady’s white T-shirt. Mickey’s got a huge smile and is looking confident, he has a politely purposive appearance. I’d love even 50 cents for every time I’ve seen Mickey Mouse somewhere.

#5 Dee Why to Downtown Bus Trips – A Diary of Stuff that Popped into My Head One Week.

Going – Thursday, 7.07a.m., 8 December 2011

It all feels pretty ordinary at 7.07a.m. But my head is clearer, because I had more sleep than the night before. And only one more sleep until my weekend starts. As we all know, the weekend actually starts on or towards the close of Friday in anticipation and celebration of two days off.

It’s still raining, but I’m not hungry like on the journey home yesterday. Yet, hunger for me is never far around the corner. It’s a short corner to turn before I arrive at Hunger Place.

The bus is very peaceful this morning, and as I now, this very moment, lean forwards to scratch my back, I read a slogan on a building for a mattress retailer: “Where Dreams Begin”. Quite apt, I think. Peace and dreams combine very nicely.

Is Thursday the magic day? Will Thursdays always be peaceful and begin with dreams? Will the media never report any bad events on Thursdays?

Even the bus itself seems dreamy-peaceful this morning at 7.22a.m., 15 minutes after I joined it. It opened its generous mouth and I stepped into its bowels. To carry all types of people, like those angry, aggressive or annoying ones, the bus has to have a cast iron stomach. And it does. They do. The bus has a better constitution than me.

Can I learn something from the bus? – that I should fortify my own constitution? Is it a state government owned metaphor on wheels I should pay attention to? A metaphor for how I could become a more tolerant and socially adept person?

This bus is nice ‘n’ warm. I draw this warmth inside of me.

How does the bus driver get on with the bus? Does he treat her well? Do they communicate or have an unspoken rapport? In the end, the bus has the upper hand, because if she won’t go, nobody goes, anywhere.

And if she has to be towed away, she’ll just have the day off and relax while she’s mechanically attended to. She’ll enjoy the tow because for once it’s a ride for her.

She just opened her cavernous mouth open for some stragglers. A lot of stragglers. That was good of her. But, like me, she just wants to get downtown so the day can end. We both want the weekend to come and that can’t happen until today and most of tomorrow passes. I’m assuming she has the weekend off. I get the impression she does as she’s too warm and relaxed.

It’s still peaceful and the Harbour Bridge is seconds away from feeling this girl’s supple, rubber tyres.