Friday, 22 March 2013

Finaly, on the bus, tail of the ticket part one..

getting on the bus is a whole new set of decisions, what type of ticket to get, single, return, weekly, monthly, annually and recently add into the mix how many zones of travel (by colour ) paper tickets, electronic cards and even directly to your

I started with paper tickets, singles as during the early stages there were the occasional lifts in one direction or another.  This was short term as schedules were never easy to match so I moved on to the daily then the weekly then the monthly. I never did get to annual, I kept and keep hoping for another job in walking distance.

The problem with getting the ticket on the bus is communicating with the driver. Adding the sound of the engine, regional accents and half asleep people to the various options and routes it is not always easy. Although I have never had quite the problems of one departure point regular.  Each morning he asks for the same ticket, always a single giving the correct name of the stop as stated on the route list, and every morning he has to say it twice.  I could ask for his ticket for him, I know what stop he wants now, indeed it has become my mental label for him.  I can't see the problem, he is outwardly at least more patient with the situation than I am. Then one morning last week he only had to say it once, I wanted to cheer, but I sat in silence as this is not a bus friend just a regular passenger.  The next day, he had to say it twice!

The other problem with on the bus tickets is what to do with them. Yes there is a place to put used tickets on the bus but that is normally full of other rubbish.  You can pop then in your bag or pocket where they accumulate till they begin to take over.

The last time I had a job "with travel" I was of the "stuff the used ticket in the pocket and bin it later" persuasion.  Of course later keeps not happening and your pockets expand till you have panniers!  Getting off the bus one windy morning, trying to push yet another ticket into an overfull pocket, I thought to put them in a bin fastened to a lamppost I would pass before the zebra crossing  on the way to work.  I always forgot when I got inside where bins aplenty resided. So, do it now with bin in sight and before I forget again was my thought.  I crunched up the tickets and with the the blustery wind in mind I put my hands part way into the bin not letting go till I was satisfied the wind would not catch them back out again.  Visualise if you will my stunned dismay when the released handful of tickets dropped down into the bin and kept dropping right out of the bottom the wind gleefully whipping them across the road and down the street. There appeared to my horrified eyes double the tickets I had attempted to dispose of  swirling the public thoroughfare. Some person akin to bus shelter despoilers, had set a fire in the bin and melted out its bottom!  I have never since attempted to dispose of my tickets outside.     
The street down which tickets blew