Intercity disorder

There's been fear and self-loathing on the Intercity. I've been carless for a few months so in order to visit my friend Ruby, who now lives down Oamaru way, I had to catch a bus. Ruby, who has long held the position of everybody's secretary, booked the ticket.

Half an hour before boarding time, it became apparent that she knows me far too well. I was sitting with colleagues at Bailies bar indulging in a post-work wine when her text arrived.

"You better not miss your bus by having a cheeky wine at Bailies."

Public transport taught me a lot about myself.

5.10pm: Advise Ruby by text that I am safely on the bus.

5.12pm: Driver informs two people they haven't picked up their boarding passes. Both are lads aged about 17 with bad posture. It colours my opinion of the whole demographic which in turn colours my opinion of myself for being so judgmental.

5.15pm: Three girls board the bus with very short skirts and very high heels. This is not appropriate buswear. I note they are of similar age to the Bad Posture Boys and find myself grumbling about a whole demographic which now includes both genders. Realise this makes me a lady curmudgeon.

5.20pm: Receive phone call which is to do with work and must on no account be missed. I talk for just enough time and at just such a volume for people to start hating me. Braying on mobile phones on public transport is a pet hate of mine so now I've got a busload against me, including myself.

5.33pm: Stop somewhere up Riccarton Rd, where I see a fat girl wearing the unsettling combination of a low-cut V-neck top and unsupportive bra. I berate myself for having such prejudices when I am no Slim Jim and often leave my cleavage open for similar criticism.

5.55pm: Am hating society at large.

6pm: Decide to lie across two seats and begin hating the bus driver for his indiscriminate braking style.

6.05pm: Discover there is no toilet on the bus so I am at the mercy of a brake-happy bus driver. Hate self for drinking a pre-bus glass of wine. Also hate bladders and become convinced they are of poor design.

7.46pm: Realise bladder was no barrier to sleep and must have nodded off, thereby missing almost two hours of anger.

7.50pm: Informed there will be a 40-minute stop in Timaru. This is beyond comprehension for someone who is impatient to reach their destination so I spend $20 for a 15-minute visit to my mummy.

8.30pm: Return to bus. It is dark. Each passenger's face is glowing in the light of a mobile phone or iPod. I text someone to tell them how ridiculous everybody looks and hate myself for not seeing the irony.

9.04pm: Very impatient now. Thank the Lord for bladder relief at mum's house. This kind of situation hothouses my extremely low boredom threshold.

9.10pm: Oamaru is in sight. I use my mobile phone as a torch to write column notes. All fellow travellers' faces continue to glow with some LCD screen or another. I realise humankind has lost the ability to just do nothing.

9.15pm: Feel at a complete loss for humanity. Wonder if medication could fix this.

9.20pm: The bus driver stops and gives me a very cheery farewell. It makes me feel terrible for wishing his braking leg would fall off.

9.21pm: I climb into a car where my friends pick me up. Within seconds I realise their two dogs are whining in the back. Wonder about caninacide.

- © Fairfax NZ News