City Bus Driver

Forget about Wall Street’s precious VIX, try driving a bus through rush hour and see how real volatility feels. While traders panic over market whispers, I’m out here dodging cyclists, gritting my teeth through green lights that flip amber in an instant, and bracing for a pensioner’s precarious balance on my top step. When it comes to unpredictability, the stock market’s a toddler’s tantrum compared to what happens when you’re behind the wheel. Forget the VIX, Try Driving a Bus Through This Lot They call it the Fear Index. The VIX. Wall Street’s precious little pulse monitor. A gentle flutter in inflation and it faints. A whisper of tariff talk, and it needs a lie down in a dark room with chamomile tea. It's cute, really, watching traders panic because someone mentioned “macroeconomic headwinds” on CNBC. Meanwhile, I’m trying to merge into a roundabout with a school run coming from all directions and a pensioner standing unbraced on my top step, gripping nothing but sheer optimism....

When the markets crash, I don’t need Bloomberg to tell me. I see it on the faces at the bus stop. Tariffs go up, and suddenly everyone’s carrying packed lunches and stress. The billionaires aren’t panicking, they’re shopping. Economic Repercussions You can always tell when something’s up in the economy. Before it hits the headlines, it hits the bus. The bloke who used to chat about upgrading his car? Now asking if we’ve got any driver vacancies. The regular who used to buy a coffee for the ride? Cold flask. Same coat. Worn face. The fare dodgers are sneakier. The pensioners quieter. Everyone’s just… a little more tired. And me? I’m still driving the same route, dodging potholes the council can’t afford to fix, thanks to budget cuts brought on by yet another economic shake-up dressed in red, white, and blue. This time, it’s Trump’s tariff circus again. Round two. "America First" they said. More like markets last, small businesses folded, and guess who’s still getting richer? Y...

Ever wonder what happens when a seasoned taxi driver takes a seat on a city bus at night? Spoiler: It's not pretty. From fish suppers to bell abusers, this is the one ride even a veteran chauffeur can’t handle. When a Taxi Driver Meets the Bus: A Ride You Can’t Unsee If you’ve ever driven a city bus late at night, you’ll know there’s a cast of regulars who make the journey... interesting. You've got the usual crowd, shifty-eyed characters who never pay but somehow always have a meal in hand. Then there are the partiers, treating the bus like an afterparty on wheels. And of course, the lost souls, struggling to stay awake, only to wake up just after their stop. But last night? Last night was something special. I had a rare breed aboard: a taxi driver on his night off. A man who’s spent decades chauffeuring drunks, philosophers, and blokes passionately explaining the offside rule at 3 a.m., and yet, somehow, he thought bus driving would be a walk in the park. When he boarded, I c...

Some passengers make a dramatic entrance, but this bloke took it to another level. One dropped bottle, one panicked reflex, and one perfectly executed underarm throw later, he’d not only ejected his drink from the bus but also introduced it, at high speed, to the windows of a parked car. Both of them. The Fizz, The Flight, and the Fallout There are moments in life when time slows down. A dropped wedding ring. A pint teetering off the edge of a pub table. A phone slipping from your grip over a toilet bowl. This was one of those moments. The bloke had launched himself onto the bus in a hurry, clutching a large bottle of fizzy something-or-other like it was his most prized possession. But fate had other plans. The bottle slipped from his grasp, tumbled to the floor, and landed with a dull thud. For a split second, nothing happened. Then, with all the menace of an unexploded grenade, it began to fizz.  What happened next was pure instinct, the kind of reflexive, unthinking reaction usu...

What started as a standard shift quickly spiralled into a multi-agency operation, a mechanical standoff, and an unexpected moral dilemma. From a medical emergency to a bus that refused to reverse, and a final, fateful encounter with a wounded deer, the road had one last test before letting me go home. Some nights, driving a bus is about more than just the journey. When a Routine Shift Becomes Anything But It started as a routine shift, one of those days where you hope the most dramatic thing you'll encounter is a passenger asking if you go somewhere you very obviously don’t. But fate had other plans. The outgoing driver mentioned a passenger who needed medical assistance but assured me everything was in hand. I nodded along, blissfully unaware that my shift was about to turn into a multi-agency operation featuring medical drama, mechanical failures, and an unexpected plot twist. Shortly after setting off, I noticed a concerned expression from a boarding passenger, an expression tha...

A sudden bang shatters the calm of a packed bus, jolting me into a past I thought I'd left behind. For a split second, I’m not just a driver, I’m somewhere else entirely. And all because of one unsuspecting walking stick. When a Walking Stick Sounds Like the End of the World Picture this, a packed bus, mid-afternoon, teetering at a busy junction, my foot delicately feathering the brake like a concert pianist caressing the keys. Every passenger, blissfully unaware of the precarious ballet I’m performing with traffic, just wants to get where they’re going. Then, it happens. A sharp BANG!, a noise so loud, so sudden, that my heart attempts an unauthorised departure through my ribcage. It’s the kind of sound you don’t want to hear while threading through lanes of impatient motorists, not unless you enjoy adrenaline-fuelled existential crises. For a split second, time freezes. My hands grip the wheel a little tighter. A dozen heads jerk up in synchrony, wide-eyed, scanning for the impen...

A forgotten bus pass, a firm policy, and a split-second decision, sometimes, the right call isn’t about rules but recognising potential. When a determined teenager sprinted off instead of arguing, I saw more than just a fare dodger. And that changed everything. When the Right Decision Isn’t in the Rulebook It’s that feeling of uncertainty when you have to make a call, unsure whether the outcome will benefit the bottom line or cause more problems down the road. For us on the buses, it’s often about protecting the revenue, standing firm on policies, and not letting a chancer slip through the cracks. But let’s be honest, sometimes the line between being firm and being reasonable is thinner than you think. There are days when a decision feels like a loss. You know, the kind where you stick to the rulebook, yet something doesn’t sit right after the fact. It’s a hard call to make, knowing when to enforce the policy and when to offer a bit of leeway. A free ride here and there might not seem ...

A colleague’s plea. A dog tied to a post in the cold night. A fleeting moment where help was possible, but uncertainty and silence leave the real question: Did I miss my chance to make a difference? When a Missing Dog Becomes a Burden of Unanswered Questions As I stepped on the bus for my changeover, I caught my colleague’s gaze. There was something in his eyes, a quiet urgency that spoke volumes. It wasn’t just a glance; it was a plea wrapped in a question. The kind of look that said, I need your help, and not just any help, but the kind that feels like a turning point.      " Can you do me a favour?” he asked, his voice low, almost apologetic.  I nodded, though the knot in my stomach had already tightened. “What’s up?” “There’s a dog,” he said quickly, almost too quickly. “I saw it on my way back here. Tied to a post, shivering. Looks bad. Really bad.” The words hit me like a punch, sharp and immediate. My thoughts raced, scrambling for meaning. Was he asking me t...

A bus ride transformed into a pre-show adventure, where enchiladas, nostalgia, and electric dreams collide. From the restaurant to the concert, public transport proved the ultimate ticket to an unforgettable night. From Salsa to Symphonies: A Bus Ride to ELO’s Electric Night ELO Again: The night hummed with an electric pulse as ELO Again descended upon the city, their tribute to the Electric Light Orchestra luring in droves of eager fans. The streets were alive with chatter, the air rich with nostalgia, and my bus became the vessel carrying them towards an evening of symphonic splendour. Among them, a quintet stood out, three men and two women, all wrapped in the warm glow of pre-show excitement. They stumbled onto my bus, already in full flight about their earlier escapades, having indulged in a feast at a nearby Mexican restaurant. Their enthusiasm was boundless, their energy infectious. A tribute to ELO, as their iconic spaceship glides through space, approaching Earth with the sun...

A fur-coated lady and a mince-soaked man collide in the aftermath of a Six Nations showdown, where rugby fans, awkward encounters, and bus rides blur the lines between class and chaos. Sometimes, public transport is the real game-changer. Rugby Fans, Odd Encounters, and a Bus Ride Like No Other The Six Nations had the city in a grip tighter than a front-row scrum. Every street, every pub, every half-sensible surface had been draped in flags, Scottish, Welsh, Irish, French, English, and Italian. The air was thick with a heady mix of lager fumes, competitive banter, and the unmistakable scent of match-day excitement. And, as always, the bus bore witness to it all. Saturday evening, post-match. The streets teemed with fans spilling out of bars, high on the thrill of victory or numbed by the sting of defeat. The bus was doing what it does best, bringing together a collection of souls who, in any other setting, might never share the same air. She boarded first. A vision of wealth, draped in...

On a quiet, rainy night, a simple act of kindness spirals into a wild late-night bus ride, where a pram full of shopping, orange juice, and an unexpected community turn a dull shift into a chaotic adventure. A Rainy Night, a Pram Full of Surprises, and a Bus Ride to Remember It was one of those nights. Late, cold, and thoroughly wet. The kind of evening that makes you question your life choices as you’re seated in an empty bus, navigating the high street in eerie silence. Not a soul had boarded yet, and I was running empty. The road ahead glistened under the streetlights, the rain giving it a reflective sheen. It was a picture of desolation, and then, I saw her. Between stops, a figure emerged in the distance, attempting to sprint towards the next bus stop. Sprint might be generous; it was more of a flailing stumble against the rain. One thing was certain: she wasn’t going to make it. I glanced around; not a single car in sight. Doing the decent thing, I slowed down and pulled over jus...

The arrival of Deep Seek has turned the stock market upside down, and as the financial world collapses around me, I’m left wondering if my own investments will survive the chaos. Between frantic passengers discussing the AI war and the growing possibility of overtime, I’m starting to think my job as a bus driver might be the only thing holding together some semblance of normalcy in a world gone mad with tech. The AI Showdown That’s Making Me Rethink My Shift It wasn’t just another day in the world of AI. Deep Seek had arrived, and the financial markets were having an absolute meltdown. Stocks were in freefall, investors were panicking, and somewhere, a hedge fund manager was probably crying into their artisanal oat milk latte. And here I was, behind the wheel of my bus, watching the chaos unfold in real time. From the moment I started my shift, I knew something was off. The usual passenger debates, who should give up their seat, whether the weather app can be trusted, had been replaced...

There's a man at the bus stop, lager in hand, preaching about aliens, lizard people, and moon landing conspiracies to a captivated and increasingly uncomfortable audience. As the self-proclaimed "guru" spins his web of madness, I can't help but wonder, will his "revelations" ever make it onto my bus, or will I be the one to shut him down? Either way, I’m about to witness the most bizarre sermon of the year. A Drunken Preacher, Conspiracy Theories, and the Bus Stop That Became a Pulpit The ‘Conspiracy Guru’ Preacher (With a Can of “Liquid Insight”). I can see him long before I pull up to the stop, a figure that screams self-proclaimed genius.  He’s standing by the lamppost, swaying slightly, with that tell-tale can of lager in hand, as though it’s his personal sceptre of enlightenment. His lips are moving, but it’s more than just the usual chatter. This man is preaching, and whatever he’s saying, I can already tell, it’s not going to be anything short of spec...

Today’s events unfolded with all the melodrama of a disaster film, and naturally, I found myself unwittingly cast as the leading man, part heroic, part hapless.  The morning began with an ominous drizzle that seemed to mock my optimism as I trudged into the depot. My opening line to the desk staff? I didn’t get a call to stand down this morning, so here I am, ready to embrace chaos. They chuckled, those cheerful souls, as they handed me my amended duty sheet. The sound of pens scratching against paper could have been the soundtrack to impending doom—a prelude to nature’s tantrum. The drive into work was deceptively mundane, a quiet before the storm that lulled me into thinking this might just be another ordinary day. But as soon as I completed my vehicle checks and embarked on my route, reality smacked me square in the face. The streets were eerily deserted, as though the population had collectively decided to audition for roles as extras in an apocalyptic thriller. My wife had for...

Ah, the sweet monotony of a mild, sunny afternoon. The kind of day where the world seems almost too perfect, too peaceful.  Naturally, that’s when the universe decides to hit “shuffle” on its playlist of absurdity. And so it was, as I eased my noble steed to a halt at the pedestrian crossing near the town hall. Someone had pressed the button, halting my progress. Thoughtful, wasn’t it? Yes, truly, humanity’s selfless acts know no bounds. But I digress. My attention was soon drawn to a figure, let’s call him The Man in Question, whose presence screamed, “I bring disruption wherever I tread.” He wasn’t just crossing the street; no, that would be too pedestrian, wouldn’t it? Instead, he launched himself into a live-action game of Frogger, weaving through traffic with all the grace of a wrecking ball at a ballroom. His trajectory? A park bench just ahead, where an unsuspecting couple sat wrapped in the tender cocoon of their own oblivion. The couple, oh, what a pair. She, a rough-aroun...

Some days, being a bus driver feels like you’re at the centre of a world where ordinary routines can suddenly shift into moments of quiet alarm. People board with their concerns, their errands, and sometimes their emergencies.  One such moment played out before me not too long ago. A man boarded the bus with his toddler in tow, his expression tense but composed. He chose a seat at the front of the bus and immediately made a phone call. His voice, though controlled, carried a gravity that caught my attention. “Yes, love,” he began, “She’s fine for now. The doctor said it should pass naturally.” It became clear from his measured words that his child had swallowed a coin. The toddler sat quietly, seemingly unaffected, but the weight of what had happened was evident in her father’s tone. The man continued, his voice rising just enough to make sure it carried, as if he didn’t mind who overheard. “I told her not to put things in her mouth,” he said with a sigh. “It was just a moment. She...