So logically, I’ve taken to riding up on top of the buses to truly scare myself to death. The first day I rode on top of a bus I was kind of wedged in between baskets of jagged tin that seemed to want to stab into my sides anytime the bus went over a bump which was pretty much all the time. My next ride up top was far more comfortable with plenty of room to stretch out. We even had some tea and biscuits sent up from the shop next to the bus stop while we waited ages for the thing to decide to move. At one point a young guy was balancing precariously on the front of the bus trying to snap some photos of the crazy white folks on a Bangladeshi bus roof rack and nearly did a back flip off the front when the bus came to a halting stop on a bumpy road.
On another journey I also had to think of molestation avoidance tactics while perching precariously at the back of the bus nestled uncomfortably between some Bangladeshi dude’s legs. Given the tight circumstances, I was willing to let his leg hold slide but when he decided to strategically relocate the position of his hands while deciding to rest his head on my back, I had to bring things to a grinding halt and find a new position. Unfortunately, after an awkward, painful and death defying re-shuffle, I pretty much found myself in the exact same position except this time I was facing him and had to do some mild contortions to stop his face from inching ever closer to my boobs.
Riding inside the bus is marginally more safe but it may cause you to lose the will to live as you try to find some breathing space while avoiding the stares of pretty much everyone on board. Plus Bangladeshi men seem to like to beat up their bus drivers for reasons that have yet to be established. I’m definitely not going to complain about the commute in London ever again!
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