THE BEST RIDE.

The time now is 2313 hrs.  It’s been one of those ‘just one for the road nights’ that ends up being somewhat close to a drinking fest. My feet wobble, I never really stagger under the influence, but my head is spinning like a hula-hoop. My pockets feel the punch of my unprecedented drinking spree, so I walk to an Equity bank ATM in a bid to refresh them. I pass by a beggar, drop a coin in his bowl and watch as he slowly utters a few words of gratitude. The guard at the ATM suspiciously stares at me as I push my way in. Something about ATMs makes me feel like I’m in the urinal.

My phone suddenly rings. I can hardly see who the caller is, my vision is blurred, but from the voice I quickly pick up who it is. “You need to get your arse here ASAP. It’s getting late!” My caller asserts. It’s never too late to go where there is love though. I’m not the perfect guy when it comes to taking instructions, but I figured out my caller is simply warning me against aimless promenades on my way through the CBD. I attempt to pace to the bus terminus despite my level of inebriation.

I pick out it’s the drunkards’ hour immediately I board the bus. It reeks of alcohol, I’m not even sure if my driver is sober. I tuck myself somewhere near the back seat where a couple is chatting excitedly. The man wraps his arms around her at the sight of me as if to claim territory. Another man then walks in and sulks himself just adjacent to me. He stares at my ear studs and sneers in disgust. I’m used to that already though, so I just shake my head and show an imaginary middle finger to him.

Best Ride?

Fast forward a couple of minutes and the bus is full. Time to hit the road, the driver revs the engine and is almost taking off when suddenly a slurred cry rents the air. A young man, early 30’s or late 20’s I’d say struggles to climb the steps into the bus. He is in his cups, can hardly walk straight, and he would end up being the sit down comedian of our bus ride.

A bus is not just an ordinary gathering. What is interesting is the bare fact that a bus will normally contain people from all and diverse walks of life. Greer LJ, a learned friend and a judge of the English courts even used the idea of ‘The man on the Clapham omnibus’ to define a hypothetical reasonable man. Bus rides have thus at times been interesting, as some comical characters suddenly get their time to subliminal fame. Others have taken washing their dirty linen in public to a whole new level by indulging into their confrontations while seated on those mid-floor seats. Others have taken to bluffing and doing mega business transactions over normally high-pitched phone conversations with their associates.

My ride was not anything far from the precedence. Our comedian was going to crack our bones till he alighted a few minutes just before I would. He was having a boiled up conversation with his enraged wife, whom, from what I could pick had already deserted his sorry arse for reasons not well known. The young man was being apoplectic, constantly lifting his arms and banging his head on the seat at the front of his. He was that kind with a filthy mouth, throwing unspeakable insults to his one time love of his life. The whole bus was centered at his tantrums, as he continued to express to his wife how much of a slut he though she was, and how much life was good for him now that she wasn't around.

It’s normal for men to crumble, I suppose, though it’s personally been a while before a tear stung from my eyes. This guy was finally to break down and change tune though. He wept and wept through the phone call, which had now lasted to close to 30 minutes. I have seen men attack the proverbial ‘straw man’ and get away with it, some have spoken ill of powerful people and luckily been left Scott free. But only a fool bites the hand that feeds him. This man may have finally realized this analogy; maybe it was too late, but he now was certainly wishing he’d not acted like an ignoramus and been so diabolical in the first instance.

Slowly as the bus flowed through the traffic, the young comedian became even more hysterical. He was now crying like a baby on diapers. A man seated next to him tried to comfort him but to no avail. What had been a comedian for me became a reason for pity.

As I walked to the woman I love that night, I couldn’t help but think, how absurd and retarded it would be for a man to let go of that that he truly loves. That it’s tantamount to digging and burying oneself in a grave of pity, wallowing with pity and self hatred. Being with the one you love, and being happy together, forever, that’s the best ride, the best ride ever…