London Livin’: Long Bus Journeys aka ‘no sir I don’t want your chocolates’

There I was journeying home on my 45 minute bus ride (sometimes 30 mins or over an hour depending on traffic) from uni with my course mate. Chatting away at the back of the double-decker bus about hair care and easy hair styles and getting lost in the conversation like I usually do when it comes to the topic of hair. We didn’t want any trouble neither did we encourage or invite it, when this drunkard just staggered our way.

Mind you we had our backs to the driver and the direction in which we were moving as we sat as comfortably as could be in this surprisingly filled bus at 10 o’ clock in the evening. Needless to say we were exhausted but happy with our Friday night that consisted of the usual, a long chat and lots of laughter and YouTube videos in the university computer room that only we filled as our classmates usually left us behind in as they went on about their business and to their warm homes or on campus accommodation.

So there we were unbeknownst to what/who was lurking behind us until his feet dragged towards us and his slurred speech interrupted out conversation. At first we were thinking he had some sort of physical/psychological/mental problem and were willing to shift our bodies a little to the right so he could move to the seat without any problems. But then he decided to start laying hands, and I don’t mean this in the spiritual, baptist, Pentecostal sense either, I mean this in the ‘i’m only going to ask you nicely once if you can get your hand off my thigh before I make a scene up in this piece’ kinda way. The moment I saw his hand graze my friend’s leg I knew what time it was. Time to pick up our phones, act busy and make no sudden movements or eye contact.

Now why is it that crazy people want to sit by you when it’s late and dark and the bus is full of seats, not to mention it’s a friggin double-decker bus!

So he sits in front of us, he’s looking at us and we’re looking at our phones. He proceeds to dig in his pocket. Now I’m on full red alert and preparing myself to speak in the nicest tone ever and politely move to another seat. He pulls our two sweets from his pocket. At this moment in time I’m reminded of all the things I was taught as a child and not taking sweets from strangers. He offers my friend these old ass sweets in faded wrappers and she declines as expected  Me fooling myself into thinking he would get the hint, I proceeded to check out my Instagram timeline on my phone. Then he asks me…’hell to nawl’ is what I thought and ‘no thank you, I do’it want you’re chocolates’ is what I said. He becomes more persistent, ‘no sir, I don’t want your chocolates.’ I must have repeated this two or three more times before he thought it would be a great idea to drop the sweets on my lap. At that moment I don’t know if I expected the sweets to explode on my lap, I went into complete shock and froze for a millisecond thinking of all sorts of terrorist threat thoughts  until my I snapped out of it and gave the man the nastiest cut eye I think I have given in the past two or three months. I pick the faded 2 months out of date looking Lindt and Worther’s original sweets up from my lap thinking of where to drop them, before settling on dropping them on the empty seat next to Mr drunkard. Following my friend’s eye signals and whispers to move to another seat, I get up and follow her lead. We both agreed to never let our Friday night sessions to run that long ever again.

The moral of the story: You know crazy when you see it and when it comes your way cross the road or change your seat.

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