The trouble with buses
Living hand-in-hand with your community as it travels about the city can be an amazing thing, or a trial in humankind.
The other day I met a woman on a bus, who did not seem to know where she was going, in more ways than one.
The woman in question was already on the bus when I alighted.
She asked whether the train from Brixton went to Green Park.
Initially I was confused, there was a train strike on and the Brixton overground does not travel to Green Park.
I explained that the overground train did not go to Green Park, but Victoria, but today it was not running.
I added that the underground Tube train did go to Green Park.
There was a bit of an interchange to iron out details, but ultimately she understood that she was headed to Brixton, where she could get the Tube to Green Park.
After an extended silence this innocent interchange changed slightly in character.
She said words to the affect, “Brixton is dangerous. Black boys stab people every nine minutes.”
Angrily and firmly I replied in an extended, “No.”
“Yes, they do, she insisted.”
At this point she went silent and as we were approaching Brixton Town Hall she asked, are we going to Brixton.
I didn’t answer.
Then on me moving to get off at Brixton station, she asked, “Is this Brixton?”
“Mmmm.” I half irritatedly answered, I was damned if I was goign to help her any more than that.
I walked off quickly, hoping she would not end up in my Tube carriage and cursed that prejudiced people do not come with a public health warning for innocent public transport passengers.
