Tuesday, 23 April 2013

Public transport, and why I shouldn't be allowed to own a car

One day, I was on the bus. Now I should mention that I was sitting in one of my more favourite seats - The ones where there's two sets of two seats facing each other, sort of like on a train but without the little handy table. I like these seats as I've got more leg room (despite that I never need much) and it means that I don't have to awkwardly ask the person sitting next to me to move so i can get off. Turns out, other passengers aren't psychic and you can very nearly miss your stop if you don't pipe up.

Anyway, so I'm sitting in my seat, thinking it's getting a bit warm, so I should take my hoody off. I was on my own, but it was mid-afternoon and the bus was quite full, so all three other seats in this nice little square were taken by random men, as well as the other four seats on the other side of the aisle, also by 4 random men.

So I innocently take off my hoody, cos no one wants to get all hot and sweaty and begin to smell. It doesn't matter if you're surrounded by 7 men, they'll know it's you. And of course, the inevitable happened. I managed to successfully remove my hoody. unfortunately, my t-shirt decided it had a strong attachment to said hoody, and came off with it. It was a few seconds before I was able to pull my t-shirt back down, but I'd managed to flash basically half the bus. My tips on how to avoid further embarrassment involve trying not to go beetroot, staring out the window like nothing happened, and legging it off at the next stop, even if its not your stop. Sometimes waiting 25 minutes for the next bus might be worth it to retain some dignity.

I've since managed to avoid any further public embarrassment of similar kinds, but thats thanks to the fact that I drive and have a car, so only take a bus if I'm forced against my will. This means that when I first got my car, there was a new establishment introduced into my life:

Petrol stations

They are not my friends.

I've managed to get my card stuck in the machine at one of those 'pay at pump' places next to the supermarket. This caused a massive back log and sending my sister into asda to find someone who could rescue my card. 10 minutes or so later, I had my card back, and was able to drive off. I never did get my petrol that time.

My petrol cap is my worst enemy. There's some stupid way to open it, involving my keys, where I have to turn it one way, and turn the keys the other way. Once it's finally open, and I've filled the car up, I've got to re-lock it. This has taken up to several minutes and I've been offered plenty of help off random other drivers, but I never can get it myself first time.

I've ran full pelt into the glass door at the petrol station. In fairness this was when I was younger and my mum had said i could go choose some sweets. Turns out, even if you're 10 years old, running smack into a glass door is hilarious and everyone will laugh, rather than help you up.

It's taken me a fair amount of time to learn how to park an adaquate distance from the petrol pump. Too close and you have to squeeeeeze out the little gap you can manage to open your car door. Too far and you spend another 10 minutes trying to readjust the parking attempt and have a lot of angry people in the queue behind you.

Being mistaken for being too young to pay for petrol. A couple of times I've gone into the little shop to pay, and I've been told that I have to be over 16 to pay for petrol. Despite the fact that I've had my car since I was 19, therefore always been old enough. And despite the fact that I, A, have already filled the car up, and B, am holding my CAR KEYS and C, also have a valid licence, I really missed a chance to get some free petrol, rather than pointing out that I am in fact over 16.

I've gotten back into the car a few times to notice that I never actually put my handbrake on. It's handy the ground was flat. In fact, when I was using the hoover at the petrol station the other day, I did the same thing. I only noticed when the car started to slide forward when my sister leaned on it. A quick dive into the car (narrowly missing knocking myself out, which is standard for me) and the handbrake was on and my car didn't have slide into the big bush next to us.

The 1p monster. Something my sister likes to tease me about, as I just never seem to be able to get petrol at an exact pound, and always end up 1p or so over. I can always tell on my bank statements which amounts are from petrol stations, as it'll usually be £10.01, £15.01 or £20.01. One day I WILL manage!

On a different note, I've been very arty the last few days, and made these two melted crayon canvases. Oh and two photos of me, so you don't forget my face.





1 comment:

Gem said...

Hahahahahaha! I remember you telling me about the hoodie and t-shirt incident, but the petrol station incident properly made me laugh. They must keep those doors really clean!!

Loveeeee

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