the most inefficient bus ride

it always begins with the 8.36am bus 63. or return trip at 9.30am.

like most, i assumed i have missed the peak crowd hence the journey of 8 stops would be less hectic and, well, less inefficient. after taking this ride over 4 years, and after this morning’s ride:

i vehemently and absolutely declare

this is the MOST inefficient bus ride!

(and i say this with 30 years of experience across the island)

it stops. without fail at almost every stop. and when i say it stops. it stops.

by the 3rd stop, the engine warranty might have expired. 3 times over.

the driver, without fail, gets out of his seat, meandering through the peak marketing crowd, to board JUST a single passenger. occasionally two. (SBS bus driver: “for the good of the majority” KPI fail)

these old people that no one sees. no one waits for. holds time for.

these passages of time that we crowd out with our hour glass urgency

discussing immigrant and migrant issues are beyond me. and i can’t blame it on my pregnancy. or my kids. in this backyard. there is little to discuss. and there seems no place to debate about the big picture, when this is what my ride is like:

when i see either one of the 2 chinese national bus captains stopping for all his people to board, to stand up, to walk to the nearest exit or seat. and before you think i am judgmental, how do i know they are chinese national?

because they have shouted in their accent (no hush hush hannah stickers in SBS bus).

in chinese. or broken hokkien. and malay once. “take your time!” (interestingly, i haven’t heard them said it in english before). so in this backyard, i am grateful for whoever it is. stopping. waiting. looking after OUR old people. don’t people who care belong together?

self reflecting, i am aware i am part of this “you will get there when you get there and it’s the journey that matters” – i.e. bus is so slow, pacificers.

when i travel with R, my 2 month old. i am THE queen. i trump the aged. the old ones with groceries. i even trump people who have limited mobility.  like the old auntie with walking stick wanted to give me her seat because i was carrying R and my marketing. she may have poor balance but she can see very well. and as i learnt. shout well. and shout quite long. (being a good negotiator (just ask my husband) she compromised when i put my marketing down beside her seat).  and then using her hand that she holds her walking stick, she pats my hand that is patting R.

what about grumpy old men? well. a gentleman remains a gentleman. notwithstanding age. inconvenience. wheelchairs. grumpiness.

the uncle who has diabetes and discoloration on his amputated limb wanted to move his wheelchair so i can stand closer to the side. note: never reject a gentleman’s adroit maneuvers. especially on a public bus. and when he is grumpy.

so i trump. i trump so often i move to the back (just like mike!) so that the ah gongs and ah mahs cant see me and threaten to make me sit down. or make me tear up (hormones)

so i contribute to the inefficiencies. these inefficient drudgery that makes stacey standing up synthetic, mike moving in a mockery. glenda giving way… if glenda is here, she would give up. this ride will never get faster.

… and i want my boys to be this. so much. more than Ps and Qs. than finding their passion. or being their best. Or Whether they will get into law. Or medicine. Or study overseas. Or get an A for their better subjects. Or speak so eloquently abt why people with different learning abilities may not benefit from being placed together in a class. And being on national TV. I digress. Long bus rides do this to me.

but this. this daily kindness. If my children value these, in my naive mind, they will be ok. ok people. ok men. ok decency. ok come what may. Even if their english is not power. Even if they dont know the right people. And they will make awesome bus captains.

Incidentally, they love bus 63.

Who am i to valuate what they value.

and from what we read, What God values.

where would i like to be when i am old.

i would like to be one of those loud old aunties. who is thankful i can afford fish. and my mee pok man still pours vinegar as part of his recipe.  and i can shout about it across these slow bus rides to my friends just sitting beside me and repeat something i just said.

and poke someone with my fluorescent purple walking stick when they wont take my seat.

side note: even if SBS decides to place hush hush hannah stickers, she will never fit in. this crowd discusses the stockmarket-ing prices of fishes and prawns, the “real” local vegetable and fake imports, also the mee pok seller has a new helper while the ban jiang kueh peanut tastes different. gossip never sounds right quiet

• my daily ride