A fight at the bus station

There was a fight at the bus station on Tuesday night. Which I'm sure will come as no suprise to anyone.

I don't know if bus stations are designed to be the most depressing places in any city, but they certainly are (although the Oxford one isn't so bad). I think they might be architecturally designed as a kind of antenna (like the building in Ghostbusters), channelling and amplifying the scum of the world.

Sitting in a bus station, at night, when it's raining, I feel like I'm in Bladerunner or something. Except I'd never sit, because I'd get stained with blood and vomit. Gangs of foul-mouthed youths prowl around like jackals, old women shiver; jovial, luminescent-jacketed bus drivers are at once upbeat and desperate. Chewing gum is everywhere.

Of course, the reason bus stations are so bad is that only the worst kind of people need to go there: people who are either too stupid to drive (me), or have lost their licenses after a drunken rampage, and people who are too unromantic and lacking in billowing scarves to take the train.

So, there was a fight. It was more of a scuffle really. Words were exchanged. A few thrown punches. And of course one of the participants got on my bus.

I get all worked up about fights. It's partly because I'm a natural coward, and partly because I hate the fact that cunts like that exist. I want to make the world a better place, but I'd never have the guts to do anything, so I just sit on the bus with my music on loud, and run through loads of propesterous scenarios in my mind where I'm challenged to a fight, and I'm cool and flick a toothpick and make a quip and pull out the assailant's eyeball or something.

I'm really too sensitive to be allowed out in public. Let alone the bus station. Maybe I should start carrying a knife and, if stopped, claim I'm on my way home from a catering class.

***

As a counterpoint to my bus station hell, I was eating my lunch outside when a robin landed on the bench next to me. It warmed my heart.

I really like animals. Really like. REALLY like.

No, not really.

But I find something comforting in their presence. I also enjoyed seeing strange birds on the beach with Lucy (I'm no ornithologist), and squealed like an eleven-year-old girl when I saw a tiger cub (cub? I'm no zoologist) on the news.

It made me think that i should do something with animals (to clarify: not sexual) as a career. but the only animal jobs I can think of are zookeeper (imprisoning animals) and vet (dealing with sick, disgusting animals and sometimes killing them).

I tried my hand at being the next Dr Doolittle, but when I tried talking to a squirrel I accidentally started sucking it off.

This blog is a electric confessional, and you are the Hyper-Priest.

Forgive me.