On the bus from Oxford St to Willsden Green a few years back...
... generally we had a conductor who was slightly bad ass, kissing his teeth, b-boy limping, etc - But he was always fine. However, one day a not particularly friendly looking Eastern European chap said something that made him fly off the handle. We'd just turned off Kilburn High Road when this said guy says something whilst alighting from the back of the bus. Next thing the conductor dings the bell a few times and promptly follows. In one swift move he's taken off his ticket machine and dropped it in the middle of the road before catching up with the guy.

With two punches he'd put the man on the ground before he kicked him in the head at least three times. Whilst everyone has stopped around to witness this, nobody does a thing, and the conductor then cooly turns, scoops up his machine before skipping onto the back of the bus. He dings the bell twice and off we go.

Everyone who at that point didn't have a ticket, had their money in hand.
( @><|= w0nu!) or cunt to my friends, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 15:46, Reply)

On the 54
Me "Return to North Wingfield please"
Driver "We don't do returns duck"
*pause*
Driver, cheerfully "It's so that the bus company can make more money!"
( Peapod Has returned to the fold on, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 15:14, Reply)

Ahh, the British class system
On the 96 in St Andrews, of University/golfing fame:

"Noah, Gabriel, sit here next to Mummy please"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the 54 bus in Clay Cross, former mining town:

"OI! Tyson! Chantelle! Come 'ere and SIT DAHN"
( Peapod Has returned to the fold on, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 15:04, Reply)

Back When I Was Cleaning the Fuckers
ok, last one then I'll stop for a bit...

Ed and I used to have a pact for anything of value we found when cleaning these coaches. Basically, it ran along the lines of 'fuck you I found it, I'm keeping it and no I won't split it'. Me thinking I'd get lucky first I was fine with this.

So, turning up fashionably late to work again, probably with deep red hazy rings around my 15 year old eyes, I talk to the gaffer (this was my job which gave me my extra 17p an hour. I used to laugh my way to the bank when poor old Ed would only get £2.83 compared to my FULL THREE QUID!), who tells me there's 2 motors need doing, one over 'there' and the other over 'here'. OK, Ed, you do that one son (it looked dirtier to me at the time).

So there I was cleaning my coach and Ed comes over to me and goes "Oi Mr Lew, come here"
"What is it?"
"Just fucking come here"
"Yeah, what?"
"I've just found a hundred quid in a wallet"
"Oh fuck!"

So due to me being a cocky bastard and not wanting to make a pact to split the proceeds, then telling Ed to clean the motor I didn't want to, had me down by either 50 or a hundred quid, leaving me with sweet FA.

Still, it's not like I didn't reap (read: drink; inhale) the proceeds from it, just a bit of a bugger was all. Thanks, Mr Cooper, for forgetting your wallet and providing us with an incredibly intoxicating night.
(Mr_Lew, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 15:03, Reply)

The there was the time...
my mate Ron, being all of about 14 or 15, was waiting at the bus stop, skate board in hand, to get to school. Being the fact that pretty much everyone in Sussex is a miserable fuckwit and out to get pleasure by bringing others down to their miserable fuckwit level by any means of making their life as difficult as unnecessarily possible, the bus driver 'tsked' at my friend and told him he didn't have change for the crisp purple score note Ron held out.

"OK", says he, "let me change it in the shop and I'll be back"
"Nah mate," quoth the driver, "you'll just have to wait for the next bus"
"I don't think so, you've got to wait if you're not carrying change," said our little upstart Ron, who proceeded to leave his skateboard in the doorway of the bus as some kind of reverse psychology collateral, thinking the miserable fuck wouldn't do anything. So the driver starts to close the doors, giving Ron merely enough time to grab his deck before the doors slammed on it.
Then, adding salt to the wounds, the driver opens the door again while he begins to set off and goes, "What's a kid your age doing with a twenty anyway?"
Ron? "Cos my dad's not a fucking bus driver!"
(Mr_Lew, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 14:54, Reply)

Open Top Bus Challenge
Easy all, first post here so be nice :P
This will be a good one to get me started though as I have many a tale of buses...

I used to work for a coach company down south who used to store all the open top buses in their warehouse over the winter as, well, no-one's going to want to ride them when it's cold. There must have been about 10 of these things, all parked next to each other in really close proximity.

So me and my mate Ed, being on our 3 quid an hour wage to clean the buses after the school runs for two hours a night used to get pretty bored, and decided to do the "Open Top Bus Challenge", which involved climbing up to the top of the first one in the row, and climb across all the others until we reached the end.

Admittedly it wasn't very exciting, or 'gnarly' but sure as hell passed the time while the kettle boiled and was all good fun. Until the winter ended and we had to clean them so they could get back on the road, which meant cleaning the whole winter's worth of pigeon shit from the top decks...
(Mr_Lew, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 14:46, Reply)

Maltese buses!
In Malta, they have a peculiar type of bus. Painted as luridly as possible, with all manner of nodding head jesus and beads on the dash. (Imagine those buses in India you've probably seen on telly, but the nodding Ganesha replaced with jesus.) They're painted and decorated almost as well on the inside, or so I thought.
Turns out they're typically better decorated inside when allowed by the general public.
I was lucky enough to witness the roll out of a 'new' bus. Immaculate, lovely paint job and decorated to the hilt.
I was privy to that most personal of bus rituals, the de-robing. Imagine if you will, the exitement of twenty or so Maltese ladies (similar to the Italian stereotypical mama) followed by the mayhem as they got on the bus. Before the bus had left it was stripped bare of decor, the curtains carefully removed from tracks, jesus in every pocket, chintz bits purloined, even the seat covers gone.
The bus driver took it all in his stride, this was planned carnage on a vehicular scale, giving the impression it was expected and encouraged!

By the time we reached our destination it looked like any other maltese bus on the inside. But for ten whole seconds I was privy to the lovely interior that can really only be imagined.



Length? Well, it wasn't bendy as some, but pretty solid even so.

As an aside, I can't travel for long on buses of any sort, especially when tired, I can't help but get a hard on. Nothing sexual, I think it's the vibrations. Tmi?
( Blind Meach Cautiously optimistic, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 14:35, 2 replies)

You wait all day for a new QOTW....

(Apathyman Prepare to be underwhelmed..., Thu 2 Jul 2009, 14:15, 3 replies)

Nicked!
So, we attended the funeral of my friends brother. After the wake we had to take a bus home. Four of us got on the bus and went upstairs and sat at the back, lost in our thoughts and obviously quite upset by the whole thing. We hadnt really noticed or acknowledged the many yoofs on the top deck, muttering amongst themselves. Then we did notice them eyeing us suspiciously. They numbered about 12.
Then the group mentality kicked in and they decided to provoke us with taunts about our suits, being white, being pussies...and on and on. Then, one by one, they took their belts off and wrapped them around their fists and started towards us. They piled in, the bus ground to a stop and after a few minutes of fending off blows we heard the sirens.
We managed to fight our way down the stairs and off the bus to meet the cops while our new friends shouted out the window about how racist we were etc etc. The police decided to nick us and we spent the night in the cells.
The memories of that night warm my heart to this very day. We were released without charge.
Sorry, not very funny I know.
(jonboy75, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 14:03, Reply)

I've only just remembered this, it's probably too late now...
You know how buses do that kind of semi-silent glidey thing sometimes?

Well last year Jessie and I went to Amsterdam for a few days. On the first day we were walking along a pavement, and Jess whispered in my ear "Do you think that bus is following us?"

I looked over my shoulder and there was one of those massive luxury coaches about 6 inches behind me. I jumped about a mile out of my skin and hopped out of the way like a frightened kitten. He was parking in a bay that was faintly marked out on the pavement, and was just drifting into place. He knew I was there, and I think I gave him exactly the response he wanted :)

And that set the tone for the rest of the break, as far as me and traffic went...
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 13:35, 1 reply)

Maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me...
Not a crap story - a rather sweet one, really.

I'd just got on a bus headed for Oakwood Underground station, and found myself sharing the back row with a young hippie couple and their equally hippie (but extremely blonde and photogenic) two-year old son. Traffic is heavy, the rate of progress is consequently slow and, sensing that their offspring may be getting a tad fractious, the couple start to sing to him.

"Twinkle Twinkle Little Star"? "Old MacDonald Had A Farm"? No, far too bourgeois for such unrepentantly New Age parents. They gave the tot a near-perfect a capella rendition of "Wonderwall".

Once I got over the initial surrealism of the situation, I decided to join in, and I must say, the wee one seemed pleasantly amused by all this.
(Leda74, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 13:01, 2 replies)

Colorado
I was amazed when on holiday last winter in the Rockies. First of all Drives greeted us with a smile and called us 'sir'. This isn't right I thought...

We were waiting for the the bus to depart from the gondola back to our condo after a hard days boarding when a lady boarded and asked the driver a question as to which connection she needed to get to continue her journey.

Not only did he tell her exactly what she needed to know from memory, when we were en-route, he radioed ahead to the other bus and asked Drives #2 to wait for our bus to meet them. He then wished her 'all the best - watch your step, it's icy' etc.

It makes such a refreshing change from UK bus drivers. I'm sure most of the bus companies around here class little things like speech or ability to drive as non-essential requirements among job candidates.
(toomanydecibels has bleeding ears on, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 11:29, 1 reply)

Bus Stop
I am at the bus stop and it is a wet day. She is there.

I say, "please share my umbrella".

The bus arrives at the stop and then goes. Our love grows, under my umbrella.

We enjoy it throughout the summer, through wind, rain and shine. We employed the umbrella to keep us dry and by August, she was mine.

I see her every morning, waiting at the stop. Sometimes she has been shopping and shows me the things she purchased.

Everyone stares as if we're both insane, but sooner or later our names will be the same.

Anyway, that's how it all started, it's silly - but it's true (no pics, sorry). A lovely, sweet romance, beginning in the queue.

The sun comes and the ice melts, there's no more need for any sheltering. It's amazing to think that my umbrella led me to a vow.
(yokelrobin THE NERD WHOSE HAIR DEFIES GRAVITY/FASHION, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 10:39, 3 replies)

Self Raising Bus Driver
Most of the buses in my area now have a plastic shield protecting the driver from abuse, but there are still a couple that lack such luxuries. The importance of this feature was made apparent one day when I boarded the bus into town and was greeted with the sight of a driver who appeared to have been caught in an explosion at the Homepride factory.

As I attempted to hold back the laughter he informed us that some kids had flagged him down at a stop, waited for the doors to open then launched a bag of flour at his head and legged it down an alley.

I felt sorry for the guy, but being confronted by this glum driver covered head to foot in flour, his sad eyes staring balefully from a mask of white powder, was pretty funny, and watching the reaction of passengers as they got on definitely brightened up the journey. Have to give the kids some credit for their plan.
(Happy Harry Hard-On is naked and wearing only a cock ring, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 10:38, 4 replies)

The Reggae bus
In Barbados a few years back, swmbo and I decided to get the bus into town, rather than fork out for a taxi. There are two local types of bus - the blue ones, which are run by the council, and have fixed limits on the numbe of people allowed on, and the reggae busses. Which are bright yellow. Oh, and they play really loud music. And as they're owned privately, they want to fit as many people on as possible. Either way, the price is the same - 1 dollar 50, no matter how far you're going - nice and easy..

So, we walk to the bus stop and don't have to wait long for the first reggae bus. We'd got on quite early so picked the seats at the back. the seats are a moulded shape and hard plastic. The inside roof of the bus has a brilliant graffitti mural on it, and the hardcore reggae is loooooouuuuud. The bus starts to fill up (mostly with schoolkids, we must have been up early!), then this lovely but enormous black woman gets on, comes all the way to the back, takes the spare seat on the back row, along with half of each side of her (including the one swmbo was on).

a little further down the road, we hear a siren behind, look and see a police car. The bus driver pulls in, and the police car stops... They pull over busses over here? One of the coppers gets on, walks down the bus, stares at everyone, then gets off again. Weird....

A bit further down the road, we stop outside another of the hotels and two British retired couples get on... There are 4 spare seats on the bus, they're just spread around, so the 2 couples just stand, and it's painfully obvious that none of them wants to sit next to a black person..... I've never cringed so much about the behaviour of Brits abroad since another retired couple started line dancing to the pan-pipe band outside a spanish restaurant at lunchtime (seriously...).

Length? about 35 seats, but they do pack them in tight!
(vinny, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 10:27, 4 replies)

Pink lighting and classical music is the answer.
The male line of my family at one time or another have all been coach drivers (there is a difference) who have occasionally done bus routes.
The firm we used to work for had a couple of council subsidised services that the main bus operator, Badgerline now part of First had given up claiming they weren't commercial but mainly due to the number of pissheads who travelled late at night. One of these was the last bus at about 11pm from Bristol to Portishead. This was back when pubs shut at 11. You never took any money and just passed Badgerline return ticket. Usually you got one of the older very basic coaches that only came out when everything else had been used because it would come back strewn with chip papers, curry cartons and even a used condom. One night my dad drove it and for some reason the vehicle he had been allocated while several years old would have been a luxury vehicle in it's day. Trapezoid windows, couple of tables with lamps and little floral decorations. The muted lighting cast a pinkish hue and he had Radio 3 playing. The effect the pissed/stoned punters was amazing. Not even a dropped bus ticket to clear up.
(jvz, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 9:01, 3 replies)

Every morning without fail...
I would get on the same bus, at the same time, at the same stop. As i lived on the early stretch of the bus route I would often be priveliged enough to pretty much have the pick of the bus seats. A few stops down on my way to work a young mum would always get on with her two kids. Now darling angels these weren't. The mum was the sort of girl who wouldn't be allowed on the Jeremy Kyle show for fear of making the show come accross a bit rough, and the kids were absolutely vile with all bits of a weeks worth of shitty dinners all in they're hair and faces.

Anyhooo... I digest.

As i mentioned... It would quite often be myself and perhaps one or two other passengers in the bus when this trio of trogs would step aboard, and every day, without fail, no matter where I sat, they'd take the seat in front of me.

Also, every day, without fail, the darlings would have their breakfast on the bus. this comprised of a bag each of cool original doritos, a kit-kat and a robinsons purple flavour fruit shoot. Balanced!

And so it came to pass that at 7:45 every morning, I had my senses defiled by these two little kids, kneeling on their seat staring straight at me, schmacking and chomping open mouthed with little regard for food order. A little fist full of the smelliest crisps in the world. 2 chews. A bite of kit-kat. 3 chews. a mouthfull of purple stuff. more chewing. this was often follwed by choking and coughing and generally spraying the back of the seat and the guy sat behind (horsie) with bits of soggy half chewed half saturatd bits of doritoey-kit-katy mulch.

delightful.

As is often the case with with 'couldn't-care-less' mum's. The mum couldn't care less. One day the little girl (aged about 5 or so), getting frustrated with her younger brother shouted 'F*ck off you F8ckin C@nt!!' Being english the whole bus looked straight into their laps and pretended that it's perfecly normal for 5 year old to speak like that. The mum just laughed at the comment and asked in a sing-song cooey baby voice 'Did you learn that from your dad??'

Before you ask why I never sat right at teh front so as to avoid them taking the seat in front of me. These were designated for elderly/infirm/wheelers.

this post is not funny, nor entertaining. I just needed to get thiss of my chest.

Length... every weekday for two and a half years. *hangs head in shame*
(horsethroat chewing on life's gristle on, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 8:49, 4 replies)

i was sweating like a peado in a playground this morning
and then the bus I got on had air con .
That is all .
( fudboy high ideals and crazy dreams, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 8:44, 2 replies)

I don't use the bus too much generally...
But I was in Sweden and used their public transport.

Having read pages of reports of vom/piss soaked, stinking carriages of mental health rejects, it was with some trepidation that I stood at the bus stop in a country where I know absolutely fuck all of the language.

And it arrived (precisely on time may I add) - this long, green, bendibus thing.

On I jumped with a cheery smile, thrust the map under the driver's face while pointing at the station and saying "Ticket to the station please."

Paid, and went to sit down in the most comfortable, clean seat you could imagine (well ok, not quite THAT comfortable) and awaited my fellow passengers...

There were none! I had this lovely big bus to myself.

Still wouldn't get on a bus in the UK unless I was:
A) very drunk
B) very stoned
C) promised upper deck sex with some gorgeous female
D) combination of the above

Italy next month...I love my job.
( snee held his breath since, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 8:39, Reply)

You know these drawings of birds
for identification purposes, which are just silhouettes of the outline of the bird, wings spread?

Well, in San Francisco once, I saw a pigeon which had been run over by a bus on Union Square, and it had been flattened into exactly this shape. Its guts must have been hidden under the silhouette as there was no blood and mess to speak of, just a virtually 2-dimensional pigeon.

Nice.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 8:21, Reply)

No Other Seats?
As with most of the board members on here so it seems, I attract the weirdos. So much so that it's an on going joke between my friends.

On a sunny day somewhere in London, a friend and I were waiting at a bus stop. We had just missed the previous bus so we were at the front of the queue for the next one. As time went by more people started joining our queue. The (slightly creepy) man standing directly behind me was giving a funny look and couldn't stop staring at me.

Finally the bus came and I jumped on the bus first and ran to the top deck hoping that my friend would follow suit, so we could get away from creepy staring man. But as I sat down in a two person seat and looked up, I see not my friend but the man come towards me. He sit right next to me, looks forward and says nothing.

My friend then follows and stands in front of him and says "er... could you move?".

He looks at me.

"umm.. can you move please?"

He moves and my friend sits down.

WTF? He had the whole double decker bus to choose seats from. It was obvious that me and my friend were going to sit next to each other. What did he think was going to happen?






* wasn't going to post this cause i can't write/tell a story for shit and it was much funnier at the time. but fuck it*
(it's not hash mixed drops, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 6:41, 1 reply)