Bustin' Out
18:31
A Blow-by-blow Account of my First Ever Coach Trip to London
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| Credit: Flickr//firstbusphotos |
Turns out it wasn't as bad as I expected.
20/11/2015 17.30 Leave work, congratulating self on cheap coach deal and convenient printable ticket that means no queuing for half an hour at the machines.
17.31 Check traffic on M4. All the bits I need are experiencing delays, mostly severe. Curse self for not shelling out extra tenner for the train.
17.40 Arrive at bus station. Have to consult three separate noticeboards to find out where coach leaves from. Roll eyes at stupidity of the bus station.
17.41 Realise Bay 3 has "LONDON VICTORIA" written across it in huge letters. Bus station rolls eyes at stupidity of me (probably).
17.45 What I thought was the 18.00 bus to London Victoria drives away sans passengers. Await new bus.
17.48 Suddenly realise that someone smelly may sit next to me and all I have to defend myself with is a bottle of perfume that costs almost £1 per millilitre. Feel anxious and unprepared.
17.50 Glance at fellow passengers. They all look fairly clean but don't want to get too close for fear of looking creepy.
17.55 Still no sign of bus. Fear of four-hour delays and smelly seat-mate becoming overpowering.
17.58 Bus still AWOL.
18.01 Bus pulls up. Other passengers show unpatriotic disregard for queuing conventions.
18.02 Comfy window seat obtained but am dismayed by lack of arm rest between seats. Filled with dread at prospect of spending entire journey with a well-rested left arm and an awkwardly flailing right one. Place wine bottle in full view on lap and start scowling and twitching in an attempt to discourage fellow passengers from taking seat next to me.
18.04 Other passenger sits next to me. Silently fume, although inwardly thankful that she doesn't smell.
18.05 Bus departs.
18.25 First twenty minutes have passed in relative comfort, aside from poorly-rested right arm. Begin to relax.
18.35 Pass sign informing of "long delays". Dread and sense of impending doom return.
18.47 Over ten minutes on and no sign of delays, long or otherwise. Never been so happy to have been lied to by a sign.
18.50 Try to work out where we are now. Signs suggest possibly Swindon.
18.51 Spot giant Waitrose. Not Swindon, then.
19.00 Bus grinds to a halt. The sign was telling the truth after all. Mentally apologise to sign for doubting it, and unspecified deity for whatever I did to anger them.
19.05 Bus passes traffic with relative ease. Turns out deity is merciful.
19.10 Notice left leg feels rather warm compared to rest of body.
19.12 Convinced I can smell burning.
19.15 Move bag away from small vent blasting hot air. Regret choosing the only genuine leather bag I own and filling it with expensive, meltable make-up.
19.21 Receive phone call from friend. Unplug headphones to accept call and everyone in the nearest twelve rows is treated to upbeat but fairly intense Dutch techno. Stab wildly at phone screen but am unable to pause music. Am attracting disgruntled looks. Panic and hang up call. Music continues. After what feels like about five minutes of inept fumbling under the glares of my fellow passengers, successfully reattach headphones.
19.35 Had forgotten the M25 was involved in this journey until a sign ominously informs me there has been an "incident".
19.36 Remember I hate London.
19.50 Suddenly smell chicken. Look around but no sign of anyone eating any. Mildly fearful that may be having a stroke.
20.00 Boy in front pulls curtain across the window, obscuring and ruining my limited but still pleasant view. Would like to decapitate him but lack means. Settle for pointedly coughing to express disapproval.
20.05 Increase in number of Ocado vans and Audis on the road indicate we've approached Surrey.
20.15 Huge Asda, frequent tower blocks and billboard adverts for online poker indicate we are no longer in Surrey.
20.20 Pass enormous billboard that features French beauty Gaspard Ulliel. Starting to feel positive about London again.
20.26 Hit central London traffic. Remember I hate London.
20.40 Arrive at Victoria Coach station only ten minutes behind schedule. Am unexpectedly impressed with National Express. Mentally steel self to take on the Victoria Line on a Friday night.
21/11/2015 13.00 Repeat above experience, only in reverse and with a hangover.
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