I Stopped For A Passenger… And Somehow Ended Up Questioning Whether I Even Knew Where I Was

It started with a simple question. It ended with me wondering if I had somehow been driving around the city all day without knowing where I was.

When one missing direction is enough to make a bus driver question everything he thought he knew.

There are certain moments in bus driving when you think:

"I've got this."

You know where you are.

You know where you're going.

You've got the route.

You've got the bus.

You've even got a vague idea of what day it is.

And then somebody asks you one simple question and, within about three minutes, you're questioning your entire existence.

This was one of those moments.

I pulled into a bus stop and stopped to pick up a passenger.

Doors open.

I'm ready.

Except they don't get on.

Instead, they start asking me questions.

Now, that's not unusual. Bus drivers are basically public transport's version of Google.

People ask us everything.

"Does this go to...?"

"Where do I get off for...?"

"Is this the bus for...?"

Fine.

Fire away.

This particular passenger had been somewhere earlier in the day and was trying to work out how to get back.

And, to be fair, they weren't actually that far away from where they needed to be.

So they started with the most fundamental question imaginable.

"Where am I?"

Easy.

I knew that one.

I confidently gave them the road name.

Job done.

Except...

Apparently not.

They immediately became agitated because I hadn't included the word "West."

Now, I should probably point out that I wasn't exactly standing in the middle of the Sahara wondering which continent I was on.

I was on a road.

In the city

Driving a bus.

But apparently the absence of one tiny directional adjective had rendered my entire answer geographically useless.

Then came the line:

"You're the fecking bus driver! You should know where you are!"

Ouch.

And here's where things took an unexpected turn.

Because for a brief moment...

I started believing them.

I actually began questioning myself.

Do I know where I am?

Is this definitely the right road?

Should I have said West?

Is there another road with the same name?

Have I been driving around for years under the completely false impression that I know where I am?

My confidence didn't just plummet.

It went through the floor, through the basement and is probably currently somewhere underneath the foundations of the bus garage.

At one point I was genuinely considering checking the destination display to make sure I'd not accidentally driven the bus to another country.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to West... something... I think."

The more they went on, the more I realised this wasn't really about the road name.

There was clearly a lot more going on here.

My initial assessment of the passenger had been completely wrong.

I'd gone from:

"Oh Christ, here we go..."

to:

"Okay... this person actually needs some help."

So I decided to stop trying to win the argument and start trying to solve the problem.

Handbrake on.

Engine off.

Out comes my phone.

Google Maps.

If verbal communication wasn't working, I was going visual.

I pulled up our exact location.

"There we are."

"That's where we are."

"And this is where you're trying to get to."

"You're actually not that far away."

I thought this was excellent.

Clear.

Precise.

Visual.

Even I couldn't screw this one up.

They looked at the map.

Then told me they couldn't process it.

And then came the explanation that put the final pieces of the puzzle together.

Let's just say that at that point, a little light came on in my head.

I kept my face completely straight.

Inside my head, however, there was one very simple thought:

"Ah... I'd already pieced that together."

Obviously, I didn't say it.

Because despite everything, I do occasionally know when to keep my mouth shut.

Instead, I went back to basics.

I explained that this bus wasn't going towards their destination.

However, the bus behind me would.

Alternatively, they could simply walk.

And it wasn't some epic trek across the Highlands.

It was a short walk.

A very short walk.

In one direction.

Straight ahead.

I couldn't have made the instructions simpler if I'd drawn a massive arrow on the pavement.

STRAIGHT AHEAD.

No deviation.

No tactical manoeuvre.

No left turn.

No right turn.

No three-point turn.

Just walk forward until you get there.

"So I go left?"

"No."

"Right?"

"No."

"That way?"

"Yes."

"Then left?"

"No."

"STRAIGHT AHEAD."

I repeated it.

Again.

And again.

And again.

At this point the word straight had been used so many times that it had ceased to be a word.

Straight.

Straight.

Straight.

I was beginning to question whether I even understood what straight meant.

Maybe I'd been using it incorrectly my entire life.

Maybe straight actually meant left.

Maybe north was south.

Maybe west was east.

Maybe the passenger was right.

Maybe I'd been catastrophically wrong about geography since primary school.

For all I knew, the River Forth was in London.

At one point I was about three sentences away from putting my own name into Google Maps just to see if I could find myself.

Eventually, though, I think progress was made.

I explained it one final time.

"Just walk straight ahead."

They headed off.

I watched them go.

And I genuinely wasn't sure whether I'd successfully provided directions or accidentally launched an expedition.

I carried on with my journey.

My next stop was my turnaround point.

So about two minutes later, I came back the other way.

I looked for them.

Nothing.

Gone.

Vanished.

Which, in this situation, I took as a positive sign.

Because either:

1. They had found their destination.

2. They'd followed my instructions.

3. They'd found another bus driver to interrogate.

4. They'd discovered that "straight ahead" apparently meant "left at the junction."

5. Or they're still wandering around the city looking for the mysterious missing West.

I genuinely hope they got where they needed to be.

And I also hope that somewhere along the way, they found the road.

Because if they didn't...

I'm going to have to reconsider my entire career.

Apparently I thought I was a bus driver.

Turns out I'm a mobile information kiosk with severe geographical insecurity.

You spend years learning routes, roads, landmarks, junctions and destinations.

Then one passenger looks you square in the eye and says:

"You're the fecking bus driver. You should know where you are."

And suddenly you're mentally checking whether your route is actually in Edinburgh.

Bus driving.

Never a dull moment.

And definitely never assume that because you're sitting in the driver's seat, you're the one who knows where you are.

___

Meta description: A simple bus stop question turns into a hilarious battle over road names, directions and one very confused bus driver.

Keyword set: bus driver, bus passengers, bus driver stories, funny bus stories, passenger stories, public transport, bus driver humour, bus banter, funny passenger, bus stop, passenger directions, edinburgh bus driver, city bus driver, bus life, driving a bus, passenger behaviour, public transport humour, bus driver experiences, funny bus driver