I have bus names for the regulars. Actually, the other regulars. For given I pretty much catch the same bus to and from work and have done for most of this year thus far I guess I am accorded regular status too.
There’s banana woman. She gets on two stops up. Her chin juts out like the curvy end of a banana. It’s a hateful name to give someone. She’s probably very nice. But it’s the name that popped in the second time I noticed her and thus it stays. A few weeks back she got the attention of the entire bus and announced how some old prick two suburbs over was complaining about the route because of extra idling. So she’s a community minded banana woman.
There’s wide face. Again, not a nice thing to say about someone. She looks like the head in a jar from the new Dr Who. Normal features, just as if someone clicked on the side of her face with a mouse and dragged it over another 20%.
There’s nice Asian girl. She’s good looking and Asian. Purely racially named. Again, not nice.
Enigmatic hot girl always sits up the back. She wears Jackie O sunnies and hunches in. Her sweet face is framed by black hair. She looks like someone I know in Sydney.
There’s Mr Chatalot. He likes to talk loudly, pontificate no less, on many topics. He’s now part of the regular clique that dominates the front end of the bus. They sit in the facing seats and have animated discussions.
PB occasionally gets on. Not named for the pencil type but her tits. She has perfect breasts. Being shorter if she sits in the facing seat opposite me my eyeline is pretty much at the start of her cleavage. She wears those tops that accentuate with the V pointing down but are not slutty. She reads the same sort of books as me.
Not Jim is so named because he looks like this guy whose name isn’t actually Jim but I use that as a place holder. Glasses, he always has a book and gets off mid way.
The scene girls are classic. They wear the latest fashion of tight pants, long hair with cut fringe, ugg boots, and kind of almost nightie tops but figure clinging. They rapid fire ‘like like like’ at each other. They get off the stop after mine. I typically stand and wait until they go and take their spot. I am sure they think I am a snedger, and sit there inhaling whatever girl-fume they’re leaked over the seat.
There’s vomit lady. But I’ve only noticed her once she got her name. I’ve only seen her in profile, Egyptian tomb style, hosing down Mr Vomited On, and from the back. I’ve looked the last few trips to see if I can recognise her but there’s a chance she’s changed routes. If I projectile vomited on someone then I’d change my route too. It’s the bus equivalent of the poor fucker in year nine who shat himself in science class.
I don’t have air drummer as my morning driver any more. I have some staid normal bus driver who for some reason likes to stop the bus a metre further from me (and I am usually the only pick up). Evening driver at the moment is the unfortunate sod who had to deal with Vomit lady. He seems nice enough. Always asks how you are and so forth.
I was telling someone about my bus name thing and she was faintly insulted. She easily is. She said ‘well, what do they think of you then?!’ when I started listing all the physical characteristic based names. I don’t know. Probably ‘looks like Moore’, or Piers Lite (god forbid I do look a littler Akermenish).
I’ve read stories about long term public transport people becoming friends, sharing their transport life of 20-40 mins home. Invited to social gatherings, debating issues of the day and so forth. I don’t think I could sustain so much small talk, even if it morphed into long talk. I’m content instead to read a book and watch the world limp by from my seat.
And of course make up hateful nicknames for people I don’t even know.