The Lives of Others

Like millions of other people, I commute daily; an hour on public transport each way to the nearest large city. I've taken the same bus journey so many times I recognize the drivers and their schedules and I can sleep most of it without missing my stop. I can see the fucking road with my eyes closed and I swear I have developed a sixth sense for when and where a traffic jam will occur, what buses will be late, and when I'll struggle to get a seat (always when the University is in session, always - I swear some of the students think their book bags have a ticket too the way they seat hog)...

But I enjoy it.

I know - madness! Insanity! Who the fuck enjoys their commute, right? Well... me. Its fascinating to move through the world at a speed that would have been impossible for most people a few hundred years ago, surrounded by hundreds of people who's lives parallel my own so closely. I watch the cars slide along beside the bus, each one a little world all its own with people who have full, rich lives inside. Close enough to see but never close enough to know. I recognize other people on the bus, I know their stories, I know how many kids and pets some of them have, I even know what some of them will eat for dinner when we part ways now and then... but I rarely know their names.

Only on a commute can you speak to someone daily for four months before they think to tell you their name or ask yours; a Scottish Citylink bus is a liminal space, a limbo where time doesn't really matter and the things that keep us apart stop being so important. I've seen a full scale mutiny led to ensure a replacement bus pulls in at a minor stop despite the company being adamant there was no time (yes, the leader was a middle aged bald man wearing a polo shirt, how did you know?)... and it was equal parts irritating and inspiring.

The commute is a necessary evil for many of us, but its not all bad. Here's what I've learned while doing my time,

People Want to Connect...

You'd be surprised how many people actually want to have conversations on the commute... at least I was. Without meaning to I've found myself gathering the kinds of friends and acquaintances that remember my birthday and ask about my mum... and I've found myself asking about their kids and pets.

From a terribly glamorous Spanish teacher considering retirement to a legal copyright professional who's partner has a houseplant habit that would make a botanist jealous, I see familiar faces everywhere I go. And it helps. Really it does - there are few things in life more miserable than sitting on a bus in silence two hours a day for two thirds of the year... people make a difference.

...Unless They REALLY Don't

Of course, there's always that one guy that would rather die than make commute companions and that's fine. Though sometimes the rest of us get lucky and we get to watch that guy deal with the next kind of person.

If There are Empty Seats Next to Someone at Rush Hour There's a Reason for That

Until I started this job I was a chronically small town person. I still am, of course, but spending most of my day to day life in a city (or travelling to and from a city) has honed my dickhead senses to a fine point.

Look at me. Listen to me; if you get on a jam packed train or bus at rush hour and there's a suspicious amount of space beckinging you around one particular person... don't do it.

Look at me - look me in my tired, bloodshot eyes; do not. I know you're exhausted, I know its somehow too hot and too cold all at once, but when the human throng moves away from a single individual as one to the point they're nose to armpit with their neighbour there is a reason.

By all means, if you're the curious sort, go find out what it is... but don't blame me when you find out.

It Pays to Befriend the Bus Driver

Bus drivers are pricks, there I said it; if you're British you know damn well what I'm talking about. You know the vaguely middle aged, stocky, bulldog faced men who seem to take the mere concept of doing their job personally that im referring to.

Bus drivers are pricks, but they're also fantastic people and there's no in between; in the land of mass human transportation services, there are no middle grounds. If your commute bus driver is cheery, friendly, or even just not openly hostile, make friends with them because one day you will fall asleep after a long day and if your commute buddies aren't paying attention you will need the bus driver to wake you up or you'll end up in Dundee...

Did I say too much there?

When Not to Make Eye Contact

Rather like that one person that has a personal space bubble of epic proportions there are the starers and the twitchers.... it sounds unkind, but there are some people you just shouldn't make eye-contact with on the commute.

Sure, some of them are troublesome, aggressive, creepy or downright dangerous... but the real danger is that you'll find yourself looking at a Drunk Clinger and the rest of the commuters, like small animals fleeing a forest, will decide collectively that they, the drunk, are now your problem.

Nothing says glamour and glitz like holding up a drunk teenager at 6pm on a Wednesday night while she pukes onto the floor, sobbing about a breakup while the rest of your bus mates avoid your gaze while wondering if you did ask to be abandoned because you, after all, made eye contact...

Once again, very specific.... please don't ask. I lost a good pair of shoes that night...

My life used to be so solitary; as a freelance writer it was easier and more effective to just write wherever I was staying, even when I travelled. As a nine to five worker I am constantly immersed in the collective experience of the commute, the lunch rush, the friday night migration... and as a writer I can't help but be just nosey enough to pry and just self-absorbed enough to wonder how its changed me.

The answer? No idea; I'm too fucking tired to think most nights when I get home, and I definitely don't like people as a collective any more than I did before.