Late evening buses carry a certain kind of passenger: the tired, the wired, and the ones with nowhere better to be just yet. So when two teenagers stormed the top deck laughing like they’d just robbed a bank, I assumed it was the usual soundtrack. Five minutes later I was sitting in front of them wishing it had stayed that simple. The Usual Late-Night Circus Late evening runs are their own species of shift. The commuters have mostly drained away. What’s left is the odd mixture: night shift workers, people heading home from pubs, and the occasional soul staring out the window like the city personally offended them. The bus smells faintly of rain, damp jackets and whatever someone’s brought on in a paper bag. Then the giggling started upstairs. Two teenage girls had launched themselves onto the bus and headed straight for the back of the top deck, the natural habitat of teenagers everywhere. Within seconds the volume had gone from zero to nightclub. At first I ignored it. Loud teenag...
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