Posted on: February 17th, 2008 Massacre Transit
Originally posted March 26, 2007 on my now defunct blog ‘Coax Me’.
It’s a miracle I made it home alive today.
I made my way home from the downtown core quite early this morning, around 10:30. Nothing seemed out of place as I took my seat at the back of the bus, listening contently to my Apple 30GB Video iPod. Little did I know that would be the bus ride… from hell.
I should have caught on when the driver (a term I use very loosely) began violently kicking the ticket-taking machine next to his seat. I guess he was either trying to un-jam the thing or he was practicing some mortal kombat sega genesis moves on it. Either way…fatality.
As he drove the zeppelin on wheels out of the bus terminal, he very well could’ve let out a sickening devilish cackle. I probably would’ve heard it and departed the vehicle at the next stop, had it not have been for the soothing sounds of Bjork through my earbuds. If I were to go out in a steely wreck, at least I would’ve been serenaded by an Icelandic, swan-clad woman.
Never in my entire life, by any vehicle – be it boat, hydrofoil, airliner or all-terrain vehicle – have I experienced turbulence like I did on that bus. This man had zero concept of inertia. There was no easing of the breaks. This bus went 60 – 0 in 0 seconds. A new record. I kid you not, at one point the person on the other side of the back bench flew forward, and landed in another seat.
Well this went on the entire trip. Not once did I turn my Apple 30GB Video iPod off, in fear of releasing my grip and being violently thrown about the bus like a bingo number. There’s something very sinister about Bjork now, and I don’t think I can ever listen to her warbling pipes again.
The bus pulled up to the fifth stop from my house (though still too far to walk from). And by “pulled up” I mean “landed” (think Ace Ventura). The back doors, like an exhumed casket, exploded outwards then collapsed shut. Then again. Then again. The doors were stuck. Opening and closing like the mouth of a fish out of its tank. The bus driver rose from his throne forged from the skulls of a thousand damned commuters. Round two. Fight.
Van Damme needs to take notes from this guy. I’ve never seen such a rage from a grown man. Or black lotus assassin for that matter. He was roundhouse kicking the inside, side kicking the outside and letting out a string of obscenities all the while. I was in a sweaty, terrified trance, mesmerized by a man who was now more beast than public servant.
Fate stepped in this morning as the devil himself spoke and ordered us to leave the bus and wait for the next one. I was happy to oblige, large beads of sweat making their way further into my crevasses. Cold. Clammy. Still alive.
Moral of the story: if you are a male aged 18-34 who listens to Bjork, you have a 50/50 chance of making it off that bus alive.