My dad bought me a bus pass that is quite useless for a girl who travels as irregularly as me on the bus, but it still feels like a magic ticket miraculously renewed on every trip and as if youre not paying anything to ride.
I have been loving traveling by bus because I’m never in a hurry these days to get home. So I spend time waiting at the bus stop, get my time in the bus to read and listen to music and daydream. Also not having to sit face to face with strangers and deal with the complicated chemistries is also nice if you want to be alone.
night ride home
Yesterday I was coming back very late at night from meeting an old and magic friend, traveling back in the soft wet and lovely night in the glowing red bus with the feeling of not belonging and freedom that the red bus can give you.
Two days ago before that, a big bully of a man sitting beside me, at the feel of the bare flesh of my sleeveless arm against his terry-cot shirt tried to get a little too familiar with me, pushing himself against me as I got off with my bag holding him off, waiting for me to get onto the next bus. And I with my hands folded angrily trying to intimidate him. It worked. Or he just got bored waiting.