My scary public transport experience

[hydrogen]

Today, I decided to venture on public transport and I can assure you it was the most uncomfortable choice I've made to date. It was Eid and since I was going with cousins and some friends to watch something, it seemed responsible to take the bus instead of hiring a car or doing something to cater more people than need be. I set off on foot to a few streets down where I was confronted with the shelter-like construction known as the bus stop - a haven for thugs and the elderly alike. I stood up for some time enjoying the outdoors, the views around me and the shoppers running around like lice. I entertained myself with what I thought people had inside their shopping bags. I sat down minutes later as my fragile legs couldn't handle the thrusts of the wind and to my surprise I was coincidentally approached by a big black man. This is my first interaction with a black man following my enlightenment on Bantus might I add. He leaned towards me slanting his back whilst placing himself against against the bus stop structure as if his body had extended him too far to interact with humans. I anticipated some form of karma because of what I had been saying about his kind - luckily, I didn't panic and kept my composure but soon after he uttered the words "do you know where ______ is" I began to lose my sense of self and quickly answered as if obediently "yes urm..." with a crackle in my voice in fear of the consequences had I not happened to know where the place is. I pointed in the direction that I assumed it was, since I do have a visual recollection of the area I live in but he wanted the specifics and said "do you know where it exactly is?" and the hand I had pointed to the direction was shaking and I gripped it with my other hand and maneuvered my wrist to my lap in case he saw my vulnerability and decided to strike. However, I shook my head and expressed apology with a "sorry... no..." at the end of a tilt to the side. I lie to you not, he looked at me with such disdain within a small frame of time that I felt it run through me and I shivered only for him to notice and give me a look of disregard before walking away with a slightly confused face.

I sat there moments after he left with the wind in my face contemplating if that had been a karma for my beliefs but I thought it couldn't be since that was on the internet and this is real life. In real life, I have no problem against blacks, I reassured myself. Besides, he only asked me for directions not citizenship in Jubaland. Surrounded by one lady carrying a forever 21 bag in one hand and a strawberry Starbucks frappacino in the other I felt safe, what could she possibly do? Strangle me with cheap polyester that would tear the moment it was placed against my neck? We gave each other a few looks, nothing negative - it was more of a acknowledgement of each others existence and the bus eventually came as we grew tired of each others sight. I swiftly got up from my seat (which I had warmed up rather well!) and hopped onto the bus to continue my journey into London.

I paid the driver for a ride's worth and he gave me a ticket when I then moved into the corridors of the bus momentarily deciding where was best to sit - and the verdict was downstairs, right in between a few middle aged white women at the back. What could possibly go wrong I thought? Blonde, nails done and talking about a trivial subject - it was as if I had been paired with a reflection of my self (joke). I felt rather intrusive listening in to the conversations of the working class but it was a cultural experience, I now see how they differ from their ruling peers and I had learned which time 'Come dine with me' would grace the TV screen. Lone behold as I'm enjoying the marvelous architecture of Sloane Street in the window view, one of the women start screaming at a mobile phone about who cheated on who. Instantly, it was as if I was caged between primates in the midst of a safari. I felt threatened and wondered if I would make it out safely or with a acrylic nail covered in pork scratching stuck in my cheek. The two women who appear to be have business outside the small circumference of the bus immediately began arguing and I'm placed - unfortunately, in between them. It became louder and more profanity found its way into the heated exchange. I excused myself with an attitude overcoming the obstacle of their shopping bags and walked towards the stairs. I climbed the steps and stood at the top to take a look at the members who have subscribed to the world of upstairs. Three black boys covered in silver with gangster representations emblazoned on their chests connect with my eyes. I could either sign myself up for trouble and sit upstairs or I could sign myself up for trouble and run away back downstairs. The choice was mine....

~Part 2 if people want to know what happened next

[SultanOrder]

[InaSamaale]

Love your writing. Very descriptive. Your satire makes sound like a middle aged upper class white woman.

I personally love public transport. My favorite part is interacting with the explosive characters on there. If I didn't have to travel so far regularly I would probably do without my car.

[Twist]

I sat down minutes later as my fragile legs couldn't handle the thrusts of the wind and to my surprise I was coincidentally approached by a big black man. This is my first interaction with a black man following my enlightenment on Bantus might I add. He leaned towards me slanting his back whilst placing himself against against the bus stop structure as if his body had extended him too far to interact with humans. I anticipated some form of karma because of what I had been saying about his kind - luckily, I didn't panic and kept my composure but soon after he uttered the words "do you know where ______ is" I began to lose my sense of self and quickly answered as if obediently "yes urm..." with a crackle in my voice in fear of the consequences had I not happened to know where the place is. I pointed in the direction that I assumed it was, since I do have a visual recollection of the area I live in but he wanted the specifics and said "do you know where it exactly is?" and the hand I had pointed to the direction was shaking and I gripped it with my other hand and maneuvered my wrist to my lap in case he saw my vulnerability and decided to strike. However, I shook my head and expressed apology with a "sorry... no..." at the end of a tilt to the side. I lie to you not, he looked at me with such disdain within a small frame of time that I felt it run through me and I shivered only for him to notice and give me a look of disregard before walking away with a slightly confused face.

Part 2, please.

Basra, take a break from your boring & repetitive essays about English aristocracy as hydrogen is the newly crowned king of interesting story telling.

[SultanOrder]

I'm not going to lie, I absolutely abhor mass transit. The buses are the worst. They have the most deranged, boisterous, pungent, and uncultured individuals. I feel like a martyr when I'm on the bus and a smelly, obese man sits next to me. You brought out repressed memories Hydrogen.

[hydrogen]

Love your writing. Very descriptive. Your satire makes sound like a middle aged upper class white woman.

I personally love public transport. My favorite part is interacting with the explosive characters on there. If I didn't have to travel so far regularly I would probably do without my car.

I read the daily mail so I'm a very middle aged white woman at heart!

Part 2, please.

Basra, take a break from your boring & repetitive essays about English aristocracy as hydrogen is the newly crowned king of interesting story telling.

What an honour! Give me 20 minutes. What happens next is very interesting

I'm not going to lie, I absolutely abhor mass transit. The buses are the worst. They have the most deranged, boisterous, pungent, and uncultured individuals. I feel like a martyr when I'm on the bus and a smelly, obese man sits next to me. You brought out repressed memories Hydrogen.

Do you live in the UK? The transport system here is top-notch but with the worst people

[SultanOrder]

America. We have mediocre transport system with horrible people.

[Titanium]

hydrogen

Buses are disgusting. I haven't relied on it for some time now but I still have nightmares.

I once saw a man applying herpes cream on his lips as he was about to leave the bus. He pushes the bar that opens the door and leaves. What does he leave behind? Let's just say the bar that was originally black became 50% white.

And also that time when one of the two Indian exchange students kept repeatedly farted. It was one of those silent farts but you just knew that this particular fart travelled faster than the speed of light. It was a packed bus but I quickly knew who it was because the guy who released it looked around very nervous that he got the whole bus gasping for air. I suspected it wasn't intentional farting but he felt ill. Damn, it smelt so bad wallahi. Worst smell ever.

[barbarossa]

Hydrogen here has proven the validity of the old maxim that has it, 'every human being has in him/her the material for, at least, a good book, and that is true much the same way as it is true that every block of stone contains a statue'. Makes you wonder how many potential authors we have here in our mist .
Anyways, great read Hydro, looking forward to the rest of the story.

[Keyblade]

You went outside

[SultanOrder]

Hydrogen here has proven the validity of the old maxim that has it, 'every human being has in him/her the material for, at least, a good book, and that is true much the same way as it is true that every block of stone contains a statue'. Makes you wonder how many potential authors we have here in our mist .
Anyways, great read Hydro, looking forward to the rest of the story.

NO, that maxim is absolutely FALSE! Writing is not something that everyone can do, nor should everyone who could put words together become a writer. It is a skill, that takes practice, determination, patience, talent, and passion. This is not a criticism of Hydrogen, but of this silly notion that writing is open to everyone.

[Twist]

Hydrogen here has proven the validity of the old maxim that has it, 'every human being has in him/her the material for, at least, a good book, and that is true much the same way as it is true that every block of stone contains a statue'. Makes you wonder how many potential authors we have here in our mist .
Anyways, great read Hydro, looking forward to the rest of the story.

NO, that maxim is absolutely FALSE! Writing is not something that everyone can do, nor should everyone who could put words together become a writer. It is a skill, that takes practice, determination, patience, talent, and passion. This is not a criticism of Hydrogen, but of this silly notion that writing is open to everyone.

I don't see how that is different from the point barbarossa has made (or what it takes to be a writer).

[SultanOrder]

I was just venting bruv

[Twist]

[hydrogen]

Thanks for the comments guys! Enjoy the next part lol (it's a bit lengthy but more comedic)

Part 2 ~

As I stood there with a only a few moments to make a decision before it was considered socially ill under the preying eyes of the onlookers, my thought process entered a time lapse perplexing me from making an accurate choice that I would not live to regret. A bad choice usually and most typically leads to the end of something but mine, on the highest step of the staircase it would be the complete opposite. Of fear from seeming suspicious and being guilty of gang affiliations I decided to take a seat, after all I do possess the passport of her Majesty and I'm granted the same rights as the next man; who was at the time devouring a subway baguette, unfortunately dominating my post-Eid prayer perfumery. I envisioned a peaceful sitting, without much disruption and I indulged in fruitful debate with my inner voice about justice following my earlier night's read of 'The Republic' by Plato - a world away from the conversation of downstairs which didn't surpass the television schedule. This was my way of separating myself from the reality that existed and it was to this same reality that I was abruptly about to return to. I figured that the window views would be even grander and they would allow to me to notice the detail on every building and evaluate their historical stamp in width but as I enjoyed the Victorian erected buildings a noise blared from the back. It took me a second to internalise this noise but it was to no surprise what I had heard.

Sounds of gangster rap conveying threats and wealth pervaded much of the bus and I began to feel uncomfortable, once more. Thoughts of me making it out without a stab wound captured the entirety of my attention. If I had thought those women downstairs were obscene I had another thing coming - in the form a vitriolic song. Although I hadn't dared to turn my head around I could sense they were unanimously moving to the music, their sense of unity may signal their preparation for a joint robbery. As I gave solace to myself thinking about how prompt I could make my leave - one of the passengers at the back had shouted "MADNESS". Once more I didn't turn my head around in fear of being accused of giving unwanted looks and instead of signing my own death certificate I had made the assumption it must be someone suffering from turrets. I was naive, there was no one suffering or at least from turrets but it was a chant of gangsterdom. I had realised after the second shouting of the word that this must be a slang term which I understood moments later after gathering my expertise in the London crude.

The sound of the bell rang, it was as if my prayers had been answered. I became comfortable in my seat since nothing could happen to me within one stop. It turned out that this was not an action movie and I was not about to karate chop three black boys on a bus and save the day so instead I got up when the bus came to a pause at the one of many bus stops there are and I quickly went down the stairs. Looks like I wasn't the only one heading this way, and my three new found friends also want to get off here, what a coincidence I say to myself. My heart rate certainly didn't agree and it increased as I pretended to be fine. I exited the bus - hopping off in a friendly way as if to portray my innocence and to my surprise (by this time I had really run of surprises to give and was preparing myself to face the vehemence of London's street culture) they were behind me heading to my direction. Regret filled within me, I should of calculated this better, why didn't I pretend to sit downstairs as they got off I thought to myself. It was difficult walking with fear and attempting to keep a straight pattern of movement but as we got to the end of the road a minute or so of following me they went straight for a takeaway shop - smacking hands directly with a friend of theirs (which at this time I had not been aware) and they let out a greet "YO" they shouted and I panicked assuming this was my call to give in to their domain and I had turned around to finalise this assumption before making a run for it (I wouldn't of made it anyway as I'm pretty sure they are subscribed some sort of athletics in school) but as my head reached the length of my shoulder blade I saw that they were not behind me and were in fact amid a group of their friends and it was as if weights had been lifted of my shoulders and life was induced back into my frail body. I walked fast making sure there was enough space between us to consider it safe and enough space for me to hold onto my mobile in security.