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Diaries of a (London) Bus Driver, Vol. 2.8, Part 2 - The end is nigh (maybe) December 27th, 2004   

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(Please see part 1 before reading this.)

The next day, the bus I was expecting for my 2nd half was very late. The controllers told me it was stopped on Bounds Green Road, awaiting the Police, about a quarter of a mile away from Wood Green High Road, and that I should walk to it and relieve the other driver. On the bus were the driver and one middle aged and one 20'ish Asian male. The older man had witnessed the younger one being harassed by a large group of white and black youths. Apparently, one had asked him if he could 'see' his mobile phone. When he naturally refused, he was surrounded, slapped and bitten. The Police called an Ambulance before I was allowed to drive on.

Another driver had a worse problem. A group of about 15 youths had punched and scratched a large male on the upper deck of his 221. They were taking pictures of their handiwork with their camera phones. They ran off the bus and were followed by this man, bleeding and out for revenge. He refused the drivers' offer of Police help and set off after them. One stop later, one of the youths ran back onto the bus, terrified, as this man was close to catching him. The driver let him on and drove him one stop. I was not alone in my sentiment that the kid had opened a can of worms, and should have had to eat its contents. I wouldn't have let him on. If some of these kids have the crap beaten out of them, perhaps they'll stop feeling that they can do whatever the fuck they like and there'll be no consequences. Whatever the politicians say about ASBO's (Anti-Social Behaviour Orders) helping to reduce crime, don't believe it. Troublemakers are feeling ever more empowered, and the legal system is largely toothless. The rich kids are almost untouchable, as their parents insist that theirs are good kids, and will back up their words with money. It is unpalatable but true, that only rising anger among decent people will see the trends of the last few years halted and reversed.

The stress wasn't helped by more brainlessness from road diggers. The traffic lights at the intersection of Bounds Green Road and the North Circular Road had continued to cause problems, so on the morning of October 30th, electrical contractors dug holes on both of these roads - small, but sufficient to reduce each to one lane. The annoying thing was that the holes were dug in the morning, and by lunchtime, the workmen were nowhere to be seen. This made for what I considered to be unnecessary ½ hour + tailbacks. The following morning, the holes had been filled in, but barriers still reduced the roads to one lane. I put in a complaint, and a few hours later, the barriers were removed. Just in time for nightfall, when the real fun was set to commence. I had a fitting thought for the day. Invasion of the Body Snatchers wasn't just a movie, it was real. Aliens had removed our teenagers and replaced them with these things.

The 184 bus is a single-decker that goes from one end of Barnet to the other, passing Hampden Square, which I am familiar with from driving the 382. The route is what all new Wood Green drivers are put onto and the square is a major hang-out for trouble-makers from miles around. Two new drivers worriedly asked me questions on what they should do if confronted by these creatures, as reports were coming in of 60 youth massing and causing trouble for passing vehicles. One driver had already had a firework thrown into his cab. Several had been egged so badly that their buses were undrivable. I saw one bus in the garage with smoke billowing out from the roof. I told both to drive on, even if real people were waiting at the stop.

My only direct run-in was on my last time back from Edgware. Mine was the first vehicle in the turn lane from Friern Barnet Road onto Station Road, New Southgate. The light was red. When I saw about a dozen kids, none older than 12, headed in my direction, I knew they would target me. One came into the road, ran at my bus and hurled his egg - poorly, as it turned out. He aimed at eye level, but caught the bottom of the windscreen. Nevertheless, he turned to receive the plaudits of his cohorts, bowing in appreciation. But they weren't through. As the left lane forward filter light turned green, a few of the kids came alongside the bus, egging the exit doors. One of them told his friends he had an idea, and opened up the back doors. Red light or no, I wasn't going to hang about to find out what they wanted to throw on board, so I drove off.

Unbeknownst to me, my bus radio had a problem. After I called this incident in to Centrecomm, the connection wasn't broken, and EVERYTHING I said could be heard. And my conversations with a couple of passengers regarding these creatures of the night were barbed, to say the least. Centrecomm weren't happy. They claimed my swearing could be heard on bus radios across London, but none of my colleagues heard anything and nothing more was said about it.

I ended this day insistent that under no circumstances would I ever again drive a bus after nightfall on Halloween. I would rather lose my job than drive, and I suspect that as the years go by, many other drivers will also refuse. Something has to be done. Instead of just dispersing crowds, all trouble makers must be ordered to report to a Police Station for at least the next several Halloweens.

I asked to be transferred back to Edmonton, but as the nights grew darker and colder, there was less trouble to contend with, and I didn't press the issue. In any event, Edmonton requested a decision on the 3 drivers loaned to Wood Green, which I took as a question of whether I wanted a permanent transfer, and I don't. As much as I like a lot of the people and a couple of the routes, it is further from home and harder work, and I'm only doing it for the extra £15 a day. I'm due back at Edmonton for the week beginning January 8th.

At the beginning of November, I had a good interview for a permanent IT role in the Docklands. I thought that I might be called back for a 2nd interview, but weeks later, the official line was that no decisions had been made, so I stopped bothering. It wouldn't be my first choice anyway. My strong preference would be a move back to the New York area. Along those lines, I had a good telephone interview for a contract with AIG in New York. They liked me but offered the job to someone else, although they are now considering me for a permanent role. At the end of the month, I made a hurriedly planned trip to New Jersey. There was a chance that Adrian, my ex, would be going away, so it was a parent swap. I also wanted to be around in case AIG wanted to meet with me. In the end, neither happened, but it's always great to spend time with my kids and see Vlada, both of which strengthened my resolve to move back. I also visited several of my old colleagues/friends and re-established contact with a couple of others and did some networking.

Upon my return, I had a telephone interview for a 6-week contract in Boston. While this isn't ideal, all of my New York contacts tell me that the market is about to explode and I would be in the right place at the right time. Feedback was excellent and the company is now waiting for sign-off. So unless AIG hurry with their possibility, which I doubt, I could be in Boston by mid-January. I wouldn't bother settling my affairs here, in case I have to move back. My diaries may yet have a third chapter and will at least have one more volume. I have also had a call regarding 2 possible jobs in Los Angeles - greatly preferable to driving buses here, but a definite second best to a job in the North-East.

Boxing Day on the buses is voluntary, and for triple time and a lieu day, I volunteered and ended up doing my old route, the 382, for Edmonton Garage. It was a 5 hour shift and the few people who were out were appreciative that buses were running. All, that is, except for one 14 year old. He got on at the first stop in Ballards Lane, as I approached Finchley Central and walked straight past me. I called him back and he partially showed me an obviously out-of-date pass. I usually don't let cheats stay on, but he insisted he was only going one stop, "to the Station", so I let him on. But he was making himself comfortable. I told him to get off. He came to the front and begged me to let him stay on. I refused and he wouldn't budge. As I put the call in to Centrecomm, he stepped towards the screen and spat at me. I have been spat at from a distance, had the screen punched and even kicked, and been threatened with death, but this was the first time that I have ever been touched in any way, and I was furious! Had I not been on the radio to the Police, I would have grabbed him and given him a rather large taste of his own medicine. But he left. He had better not step foot on my bus again!

On a lighter note before I end, there is both music and humour to be seen on the roads, and too much time to think. Some road signs bring a song into my head. Example: The warning in Hoe Street, Walthamstow, that Cairo Road is closed to through traffic, inevitably has me singing The Cure's Fire in Cairo. Less welcome are the daft, slightly altered songs that I would prefer kept their distance. A certain make of 4x4 has me singing "If you knew Suzuki like I know Suzuki....."

When a rather unconvincing cross-dresser got on my bus, I heard Little Britain's Emily Howard saying "I'm a Lady!" My face didn't betray my amusement! A Monty Python sketch is also evoked by the different ways people see space on a bus, depending on whether they are already on it, or are hoping to board. The former divide the space by 3 and the latter multiply it by 10. So if a person on the bus sees room for 2 people, someone off it sees room for 60!

Proving that I have too much time to think (and am perhaps going just a little nutty doing this job that is such a far stretch for me), I have come up with 2 new words. If a pair of glasses found at the scene of a crime is believed to belong to the perpetrator, it could be called the suspectacles. And someone who is all hot air and swears a lot, could be said to be highly farticulate. Apart from an apology, there's nothing more to be said!

That's all for now.

Happy New Year.

Love,

Andy

Related: Diaries of a (London) Bus Driver, Vol. 2.8, Part 2 - The end is nigh (maybe) December 27th, 2004   


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