I have been working in the city as a bona fide full-time 9 to 5er now for about two months which has subsequently exposed me to the wonders of rush hour traffic. Now I am not new to public transport in Sydney as I have been using it since I first moved here nearly ten years ago so I am used to the foibles and eccentricities of the network. I have lamented the lack of decent public transport for years (in relation to buses particularly mainly because I don’t really need to use the train system) because there have been many a time when I was standing quietly at the bus stop to make my way to work at the hotel for a shift, only to discover that the bus I was waiting for did not exist. How is this possible you wonder? Well it has been known to happen a lot around Sydney, and my particular phantom was always on a Saturday afternoon. The unfortunate thing for me was that I was given these Saturday shifts on a very regular basis, and that bus route was probably the best and most efficient way of getting to work on time. So of course each week I would stand dutifully at the bus stop hoping beyond hope that the bus would miraculously appear ‘this time’ only to be let down once again by the ineptness of Sydney Buses timetabling. It was generally at this time I would make the inevitable call to a family member to come pick me up from the top of the hill and take me to work. I don’t know why they wouldn’t take me to work originally, seeing as this happened pretty much every week, but I’m sure it may have been for the same reason I would wait at the bus stop week in and week out for this particular bus – it was the hope that maybe the organisers of public transport in Sydney were aware of the problem and had taken steps to rectify it. It was never the case, however, and so it was that this soap opera of a journey to work continued.
Since I started regular working hours, however, I have found that Sydney Buses can get things right, as the Express service to and from the city runs regularly and efficiently – getting me to work in about twenty minutes (depending on the traffic of course). However, and this is a big one, the efficiency and regularity of said services do not automatically a good journey make. I say this for two reasons. The first reason is thus; we are all crammed in like sardines. The bus gets so full it is not an uncommon sight to witness people standing in the aisle with their arms in the air to allow more people on, and then when that gets too full, people start sitting on those already sitting down. Now I’m sure it is nowhere near as bad as travel in Africa or India, but it is still fairly horrible. The second reason is that even though it is an Express bus and clearly labels the fact that once it gets past a certain point it doesn’t stop until the city – or vice versa depending on which way you’re going – people still push the button to get off at bus stops that the bus isn’t supposed to stop at! Now what this means is that a) the bus passengers all look at this idiot with eyes dripping with disdain, and b) we all have to rearrange ourselves so the fool can get off if the bus driver decides to stop (which they inevitably do. They really are quite a nice bunch of chaps when you think about it). What I’m saying is that people are idiots and generally inept at life. I mean, how difficult can it be to realise that you’re about to get on an Express bus – especially seeing as it has in big letters on the front ‘Express Bus – Prepaid Only. Randwick Junction then no stops till City’? It is ridiculous and I think that those people should be round up and driven off a cliff. Apart from those two points, travelling to the city can be quite a pleasant experience – the whiff of body odour as you stand crammed next to some fat person slobbering from their mouth and sweating from pretty much every part of their body; the soothing sounds of the person next to you listening to heavy death metal at an obscene volume; the intimacy you get when you accidentally lose your footing as the bus goes round a corner at eighty kilometres per hour sending you into aforementioned fat person. Wonderful times really, and one which I whole-heartedly recommend you indulge in as you haven’t lived life till you’ve lived in a fat person’s armpit on a crowded bus as you make your way to work.
Since I started regular working hours, however, I have found that Sydney Buses can get things right, as the Express service to and from the city runs regularly and efficiently – getting me to work in about twenty minutes (depending on the traffic of course). However, and this is a big one, the efficiency and regularity of said services do not automatically a good journey make. I say this for two reasons. The first reason is thus; we are all crammed in like sardines. The bus gets so full it is not an uncommon sight to witness people standing in the aisle with their arms in the air to allow more people on, and then when that gets too full, people start sitting on those already sitting down. Now I’m sure it is nowhere near as bad as travel in Africa or India, but it is still fairly horrible. The second reason is that even though it is an Express bus and clearly labels the fact that once it gets past a certain point it doesn’t stop until the city – or vice versa depending on which way you’re going – people still push the button to get off at bus stops that the bus isn’t supposed to stop at! Now what this means is that a) the bus passengers all look at this idiot with eyes dripping with disdain, and b) we all have to rearrange ourselves so the fool can get off if the bus driver decides to stop (which they inevitably do. They really are quite a nice bunch of chaps when you think about it). What I’m saying is that people are idiots and generally inept at life. I mean, how difficult can it be to realise that you’re about to get on an Express bus – especially seeing as it has in big letters on the front ‘Express Bus – Prepaid Only. Randwick Junction then no stops till City’? It is ridiculous and I think that those people should be round up and driven off a cliff. Apart from those two points, travelling to the city can be quite a pleasant experience – the whiff of body odour as you stand crammed next to some fat person slobbering from their mouth and sweating from pretty much every part of their body; the soothing sounds of the person next to you listening to heavy death metal at an obscene volume; the intimacy you get when you accidentally lose your footing as the bus goes round a corner at eighty kilometres per hour sending you into aforementioned fat person. Wonderful times really, and one which I whole-heartedly recommend you indulge in as you haven’t lived life till you’ve lived in a fat person’s armpit on a crowded bus as you make your way to work.
