Let a Smooth Operator Take You Home

As a late birthday treat, Jo took me out for dinner last night. We went to AdLib on Hope Street and it was really good. I had the Gumbo with prawns, chicken and vegetables.

Of course I got the bus into town. At Sauchiehall Street a young bam got on decked out in the good Celtic gear. He stood in the doorway winching his bird, who stayed outside on the pavement. This continued for several moments as if she was seeing him off to war. When the driver eventually shouted “Ho are you getting on?” the young bam broke off from his embrace, paid his fare and headed for his rightful seat up the back.

As he walked there, from out of his Celtic trackie he took a full pint glass of lager obviously half-inched from Campus or some other fine establishment. As I was getting off on Union Street, our hero got out his seat and wandered down the aisle. He was followed by the sound of a pint glass rolling along the floor then smashing into bits.

As I stepped off the driver had got out of his cab to inspect the mess as the bam pled innocence.

On the way home Jo got to experience the charm of the typical Glasgow bus driver, mid fifties, grey ‘tash, gruff voice… She asked how much it was to Finnieston.

“For you darlin’ 95 pence,” the driver mumbled.

“Pardon?”

“For you sweetheart, 95p.”

“Sorry, how much?”

“A poun’.”

After she put her fare in he gave her a big wink, which perturbed her more than slightly.

Ah to be a Glesca Bus Driver.