The clock strikes 5pm on Thursday in the office. I’m usually darting out of the door with my next shift starting imminently – operation ‘being Mum!’ But this evening, my bottom is still parked at my desk in my spinning chair. No real urgency to leave. Why? Why is that?
Well, earlier on in the day, I was reminded by my Aunt that there was a matinee performance at The Wales Millennium Centre of Mama Mia (personally, I couldn’t think of anything worse!) Now, I use public transport to get me to and from work everyday (I do have a driving licence may I add and passed my test eight years ago but just haven’t really been arsed getting a car. January now.) Anyway, so I use the Baycar, you know those blue bendy buses you see around the city and you almost feel like you’re on an Alton Towers thrill ride for the best part of five seconds when they go around that roundabout by County Hall.
I decided to leave work that little bit later as I knew come 5pm, the entire cast of Cocoon would be descending out of the Centre in their wrinkly hundreds, waiting to board their beloved bendy bus. From the strong Merthyr Valley accent ‘Do ew stop by John Lewis luv?’ to the Polish couple only carrying a £20 note to be told by the driver in his strong Cardiff tongue ‘Sorry, Cerdiff Bus don’t give change’ – I just couldn’t face an agonising 15 minutes of waiting. 15 minutes of different perfume scents, haggard fingers fishing for their bus passes and shillings, moth ball honk and Werther’s Original breath disrupting my journey.
So I left work just after 5.30 and as we approached the beautifully lit Millennium Centre, I breathe a sigh of relief as 6 people casually board the bus with no problem and find their seats. And we’re off!
I then have to get a second bus home. Oh look at that, 2 number eights right behind each other. Round of applause Cardiff bus! I pop my bus card on to the card reader and find an empty seat. I blast my music through my ear phones and sit back. Within five minutes, my nostrils become disturbed. A look of disgust possesses my face. That smell, that awful smell. I knew what it was.
You’ve heard of ‘Snakes on a Plane’ right? Well I’m calling this ‘Farts on a Bus’.
How can anyone be so brave to puff out such a vulgar stench of bum mist? There is no escape. I bury my nose into my black snood, praying this eggy surprise vanishes but it finds its way through my snood! I can’t breathe. I pull out my DKNY Apple and cheekily spray 2 squirts on my neck. It seemed to make the smell worse! To top it all, a fellow commuter decides to rustle open a bag of Cheese and Onion crisps! Why mate? Why?! So we now have essence of guff and Walkers Finest clinging to the entire bus! Give me strength!!
We stop, drop off and pick up, the bus doors wafting this ‘exquisite’ aroma right to the back.
More people come on, eyes scanning the bus, looking for an empty seat. I’m lucky enough to have a reasonably attractive French student park his cheeks next to me. He’s on the phone.
A new smell.