I was leaving my place, running late, to catch the 197 to Croydon Town Center, and I got to the bus stop only to find it empty. Not only that, there was a nice yellow sign that said, “This stop is not in service.” So I walked across the street to follow the route to the next stop, only I didn’t know where that was exactly. So I saw a gentleman who looked North African coming along with a buggy, read: stroller, and asked him for directions. He answered, in a Moroccan accent, “sister you cross there and go left”.
So I did, and my temperature began to rise as I power walked uphill to the next stop, only to find another yellow sign. “Come ON!!!” I thought while exhaling heavily in objection to the unfair treatment I was getting by the London Transport Authority. That was not all though, there was an old couple, or I thought so at the time, standing at the stop.
Pause for a second.
The reason the stops are all closed is because of construction projects that are surfacing all across Lewisham this week. These projects are part of a scheme the council gladly pulls every March. As the new fiscal budgets are assessed in April, they engage in all the large scale construction, repairs, and renewals to prove their worthiness for more funding the following year. God forbid if nothing needs repairs then they might actually loose money in the new budget. Money they don’t need, but apparently can’t do without.
Resuming the walk uphill I got to the stop almost out of breath and said, “excuse me.” Neither of them turned around. Then when I tried again, they heard me, so I asked if the 197 stopped here. Obviously the sign said it didn’t, but their standing there and the long walk to the next stop, made me hope otherwise. The old man stated the obvious while pointing at the sign, but told me that they were waiting for the 197 as well. And, told me not to worry.
This is the part where they let me in on their malicious plan.
“When the driver sees how old she is, he WILL stop”.
It sounded as reasonable to me, as the walk to the next stop did tiring, so I waited.
Minutes later the 197 made the same left I made a little while ago and began chugging up the hill.
Our plan was in motion.
Yes, OUR plan, I was in on it too. The little Muslim girl who probably doesn’t read English needs a ride as well.
The man whispered to the woman, “you come right to the edge”, helping her walk a couple of steps, “yup just like that.”
I was holding my breath and I walked two steps closer to them, as not to get left behind.
For some reason I recall the events that followed in slow motion.
The man flagged the bus, with his left hand, supporting the woman with his right.
Then I looked towards the bus, still chugging up the hill.
The tension was building, as I looked back at the old lady who had now lifted her cane to flag the bus.
Hoping this gesture was more convincing, I looked back at the bus.
Specifically his turning signal, hoping he would have the heart to stop for an old bird.
Then in slower motion the signal lit bright yellow and he began to approach the side walk.
Victory, I thought. These old folks were gangster and I was glad I met them.
The driver stopped the bus and let us on, while telling us the stop was out of service.
We didn’t care. He stopped.
We won.
The old man to my suprise didn’t get on with us.
I thanked him as I got onboard.
He winked, nodded and was out of sight.
That was the most interesting thing that I experienced in a long time.
