Letter to Transport For London

April 1st, 2007

Dear Transport For London,

I want to acknowledge what a difficult and thankless job being a busdriver must be. You have to deal with all manner of chavs, tourists, freeloaders, drunks, "I left my ticket at home, honest", people who view your bus as their personal rubbish bin or toilet, to name but a few. And that's just inside the bus. Outside on the road there's the insane cyclists, clueless pedestrians, psychotic cabbies, and car drivers who think the 'bus lane' applies to them.

Let me just say that I'm not like that. I pride myself on being a proud user of the bus system, and a good passenger. I like to see the bus system and its agents as my friend, not my adversary. I like to say hello when I board and goodbye thank you when I depart. I like to have my Oyster card fully charged with the correct fare. I like to give up my seat for the old, pregnant and needy. As the campaign slogan says, My other car is a bus. Actually it's my only car. One of my best friends is a bus-spotter. What else could you want?

On Saturday March 24th, 2007 at approximately 4.50pm, I was standing on Clapham Common South Side, by the 'Windmill On The Green' bus stop. I was waiting to catch the 155 Bus, which arrived promptly after only a couple of minutes. I boarded the almost-empty bus to have the bus driver say, "You must be joking with me". He wasn't laughing.

I am not a comedian, although I do like to make people laugh from time to time. It was my bicycle. A bicycle on a bus? Well, yes. I see people board the bus with all manner of wheeled devices - yummy mummys with their space-swallowing SUV pram-equivalents, to name but one. I am a cyclist. I like to keep my carbon footprint relatively small. My bicycle was in need of repair, and I was taking it to the local bicycle repair shop. How else can one do this? I assumed that on an empty bus (there were three people in the bus, and plenty of room there for my bicycle), at the bus driver's discretion someone like myself who has a valid ticket, who says hello when he boards and goodbye when he departs, and who only needs to travel four stops, would be allowed.

"You must be joking with me", he repeated, incredulous and angry.
"What do you mean?" I was a little taken aback at his aggressiveness.
"You can't being that on here."
"My bicycle?"
"Yes of course not!", he spat out the words. "You are trying to joke with me. Get off my bus."

He was reacting as if I'd come around to his house and left a floater in the loo.

"Who says I can't come on the bus?", I asked, still trying to get my head around the situation.
"I say so! It's my bus, I'm the bus driver. Get off now!!"
"But the bus is empty." I could feel my blood rising, desperation increasing as the window of time for taking my bike to be repaired was shrinking rapidly. Mostly it was his horrible tone of voice that was upsetting me. "Why can't I bring my bike on? Where does it say that I can't?"
He rolled his eyes, "I AM SAYING IT!", he was shouting now. "You are joking with me!"
I didn't want to let it go now. He was digging in his heels, and so did I. "I don't understand why I can't ride. What is your name?", I asked.
"I'm the busdriver, that's my name." he wasn't looking at me any more, just shouting away from me.
"What's your name or driver number? I want to complain to Transport for London at the way you're treating me."
"I'M NOT GOING TO GIVE YOU MY NAME. I don't have to give you anything. You're not going to complain! GET OFF MY BUS!"

Later, I thought about all the 'jokers' he has to deal with on a daily basis and how that must wear on a person's soul. I felt sorry for the people around him who need to deal with a small and angry person like him. At the time however I wasn't feeling pity, I was angry.

I wonder what could make a person so full of bile over something so small. Maybe his children weren't doing their homework. Perhaps he had had an argument with his wife. Most likely he was a person who knew no other way of tackling conflicts. Of the many ways in which he could have expressed his position on the whole matter he chose the most insulting and demeaning. Ok, I admit, I shouldn't have called him a fucking wanker. I apologise.

I thought about refusing to leave the bus. What would he do? Call the police? Drive on? Get out of his cab and confront me physically? What else could I do - I got off the bus, hurting. "You don't have to be so fucking mean about it." I said. The nameless and numberless busdriver shouted at me and drove off, running over three kittens, a gaggle of puppies and five children in wheelchairs. Not really, but he did shout at me.

Unable to take my bicycle to get fixed as planned, I walked home, shaking, unable to fully process what had just happened. I even started riding the bicycle before I realised that it was a reckless thing to do.

I suppose my confusion partly arose from the fact that here is a capital city in a country with a 'green' agenda more aggressive and political than any I've ever seen. Gleefully encouraging people to leave their cars at home, ride public transportation, get on their bicycles, to change their lightbulbs, insulate their houses properly, turn off the TV when it's not in use, to walk to France instead of flying there, to recycle their own poo (well, not yet, but I predict this will be a campaign issue in the next election, the way things are going). How could a city like this, have a blanket ban of bicycles on buses, without a little wiggle room? It didn't make sense. In California urban buses have a nifty rack at the front of the bus that accommodates two bicycles, which I have taken advantage of on more than one occasion.

The TFL site states the following:

London Buses will take folding bicycles at the discretion of the driver. This is consistent with rules for pushchairs and other larger shopping, luggage etc.

My bicycle is not a folding bicycle.

Much as it confuses me in a major city such a London, I realise now that trying to bring a bicycle on an empty bus for four stops is not allowed. I have seen how this city tackles small things that fall outside of the line (parking fines in excess of £100 for minor offences), with a nuclear strike when a simple sledgehammer would do the job just as well. Or insulting and demeaning a customer when a calm explanation of the rules would have achieved the intended result. I have no choice but to continue using the bus system, but it is tainted by the behaviour of one driver. You could say I don't have a thick-enough skin for a place like London, but I would prefer not to harden up so much that talking to another person that way would be considered part of a normal day. I don't think I deserved it.

On careful consideration, I withdraw my earlier apology. The bus driver was a fucking wanker.

Sincerely,

Juan-Luis

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