City Bus Driver

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...

I’m pulling up to the stop, my eyes scanning the usual scene. Then I spot her, an elderly lady who looks like she’s about to launch the most covert mission of the century.  She’s sitting there, hunched over with a quiet intensity, completely engrossed in the contents of her handbag. It’s like she’s unravelling the mysteries of the universe, one crumpled receipt at a time. Her hands move with the kind of precision that you only see in people who have rehearsed their movements for years, maybe decades. It’s as though she’s performing a delicate surgery on a handbag, removing each item with such careful deliberation that you’d think she was examining ancient relics. The lipstick is the first to make an appearance. It’s placed delicately, its shiny red surface glinting in the sunlight. No rush, no hesitation. Then the tissues. Folded neatly, placed with mathematical precision, as if the tissue-to-lipstick ratio could determine the fate of the universe. She continues her performance, un...

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...

It was one of those bitterly cold mornings that seemed to cut through every layer of clothing you had on. The kind of chill that gnaws at you and makes your bones ache.  I had an extended layover, so I sat on the bus, not exactly enjoying warmth, but at least sheltered from the cruel bite of the wind outside. The bus was far from toasty, but it was definitely a damn sight warmer than the icy world beyond its doors. As I gazed out at the street, I saw her, a small, elderly woman standing at the bus stop, her face scrunched against the wind. Her coat looked thin, and she gripped the fabric tightly around herself, trying to protect whatever warmth she could salvage. She shifted from foot to foot, trying to stay warm, but the cold was relentless. I glanced at the clock. We still had some time before departure, and there was no way I was letting her stand there in that freezing air for even a second longer. I stepped outside to drop a few discarded items into the bin, and as I did, I lo...

It was one of those mornings when the sky was still brushing the last streaks of dawn, and the bus stop was filled with the usual crowd, sleepy commuters clutching their coffees, checking their watches, and half-heartedly scanning their phones.  But then, out of nowhere, there was a burst of energy from the far end of the pavement. A little girl, no older than eight or nine, skipped toward the bus stop, her backpack bouncing with each excited step. Her face lit up like it was the most magical day of the year, and her lips were moving furiously, though I couldn’t catch the tune at first. She reached the bus door and, without missing a beat, stepped onto the bus with a flourish, launching into song, loud and clear. “She’s the one, she’s the one, who’ll make the whole world... shine!” she belted out, twirling dramatically in the aisle, as though the bus were a stage and she was the star of the show. A burst of colour and joy as this young girl sings her heart out, filling the air with...