So...8 'o clock rolls in and...dinner time! Some interesting choices on the menu this evening. Woman in front of me (has grey stubble by the way) is digging in to her Sasko loaf and shchiken - all the while making no noticeable effort to NOT make succulent sounds. Must by THAT good.
Massive culture clash and free for all at the Steers as any body shuffled in and threw their money at the lady behind the till. In amongst the hoard was one old lady.."can i order some chips..can I order some chips" - as fate would have it though, she is queueing at the till that is allegedly 'out of order' and must, no doubt, join the 'queue'. Theres zero change so till lady is making customers - if you can call them that - buy extra add ons like slices of cheese and cooldrinks that they dont want so that the amount is rounded up and she can give them notes.
When I returned from this debacle..the bus had moved itself from original spot...adrenalin kicked in at this point..and a dab of the old panic. Luckily I found it 50 metres around the corner...engine running and hazards flashing. Whew! Upon my excited return I notice we have new arrivals. 2 mamma's with 2 babies. Where do they choose to sit...here...by me. Joy. This assures close range and therefore a good chance of odours that are bound to emanate from said babies' bottoms sometime in the next 10 hours, as well as within spitting distance for when he or they blow their cheeks. Maybe the reason babies cry on busses has less to do with discomfort, odour, and repeated bobbing around, and more to do with mamma talking straight through baby's ear to other mamma at top decibel. But whispers are a lost art in the bussing culture, as they are in many an african gathering. Tip for those prone to being stared at by babies: Look straight back at him/her with angry creepy eyes and make low frequency growling sounds - this low frequency will be lost on dear baby's mamma - so you should be safe there.