Maybe I Should Get The Train Next Time

Yesterday I had to make a journey that I fucking hate with a passion; I had to make a coach journey up to Manchester. I hate this because it takes 5 hours, I hate this because I have to share the tiny space with around 50 inconsiderate cunts, and I hate this because I have to use Megabus.

I turned up 40 minutes before the coach was meant to be boarded to find 12 people lining up for it. I joined the queue and with about 10 minutes to go about 60 people turned up and barged us out of the way. This happens every time.

Everyone started walking through the doors and made their way to the coach and was stopped by a supervisor who said “excuse me ladies and gentlemen. Could you all please go back inside the station and wait while we get the bus ready.” The 12 of us who were waiting patiently did this while everyone else ignored the supervisor.

He asked them FOUR more times and each time they ignored him so he just shrugged his shoulders and went for a smoke.

I then had to spend FIVE hours sitting in a seat behind a Somali guy who did pretty much everything he could to annoy me.

- He pulled his phone out and played every ringtone he had about 10 times each at the highest level.

- He made six phone calls where he shouted at the top of his voice.

- He kept making that disgusting scummy noise some people make in their throats and then spitting into his handkerchief!

- He kept farting and producing this absolutely disgusting smell, I have no idea what he had eating but by the smell I’d suggest he needed to see a doctor.

The clincher though was whenever anyone around him made the slightest noise by breathing or moving in their seat then he would glare at them and mutter something to himself.

I think I should been awarded a medal for resisting the urge to punch him in the back of his head.

When I finally got to Manchester I had to get a bus to Wythenshawe where Tracy normally meets me at the bus stop as I have no idea how to get to her place. Despite me telling her what time I’d arrive she was not there.

My phone had died on the coach, so with my last bit of battery life I had sent her a text explaining my phone was dying and I’d meet her at the normal place at 2pm. By 2:30 I was still sitting at the bus stop waiting for her.

Thankfully her daughter Kerry and some people I knew walked past. She phoned her mum to get her to come and meet me. Turns out Tracy had sent me a text back saying I should text her when I get off the bus. How am I supposed to do that?

I dumped my bags in the bedroom and within minutes Kerry and Aiden were asking me for money to buy beer. I told them I was a little short until the morning. They looked at me like those bullies you had at school who would search you to see if you had money. They didn’t search me though.

Tracy’s niece had invited us over for some drinks; she didn’t want Kerry there so we had to pretend to go for a walk. We snuck round to the shop to get beer and then sneaked to Yasmin’s flat, preying that we didn’t bump into Kerry.

We even had to keep the fucking lights off just in case she saw them on her way home and popped in for a brew.

I’m getting too old for this sneaking around shit.

Filed Under: General