I feel a bit guilty writing here, as if I am being disloyal to my new moleskine, which, truth be told, I have yet to make more than about a 20-page dent. It's the full-size one, but still, it seems sad that it's been eclipsed by the arrival of my new (at)la(st!)ptop, an MSI Wind netbook. As we've only been together a week, I can't tell anyone in good conscience to run about and buy one yet, but we're off to a lovely start, my pretty little girl and I.
Today I had an interesting bus experience. I got the 207 – bus of misery – from Ealing to Home today. I nearly missed the bus upon which the incident occurred, as I was dashing across the street. I had briefly considering stopping for some Starbucks, but thank goodness I didn't, as I would have missed what transpired next…
I got on the bus in front of Sainsbury's. It was crowded in the manner of many a 207 before it, and it soon became apparent that contributing to the general malaise of the crowd were two bus inspectors. I had got on at the front of the bus, and in front of me, indeed preventing me from sitting or less obtrusively wedging myself and my stuff somewhere, stood one of them, in the process of ticketing a woman.
Woman: But I haven't got £25.
Inspector: That's okay, you don't have to pay now.
Woman: Well, that's good, because I don't have £25.
(I should mention here that the woman was British and posh-ish, in a mad cat lady, crumbling upper middle-class sort of way. The man was of an Asian persuasion, both were terribly polite.)
Inspector: Well, you can mail it in.
Woman: This is terribly unfair.
Inspector: Well, you have information to appeal the charge.
Woman: This is terribly unfair.
Pause
Woman: May I have my pass back.
Inspector: Yes.
Woman: May I have my pass now please.
Inspector: I just need to fill in a form and get a print-out.
Pause. Woman pokes Inspector in the back.
Inspector: Please don't touch my back.
Woman: Well, you're leaning against me, and it doesn't feel good.
Inspector: I'm not leaning against you.
Woman: You're crowding me out.
Inspector: You can say excuse me.
Woman: I don't have to say excuse me, you're leaning on me!
Inspector: If you'd said excuse me, I'd have moved.
Woman: Well, I'm saying it now.
Pause
Woman: May I have my pass please?
Inspector: Yes.
Woman: May I have it now, please?
Inspector: No.
Woman: Why?
Inspector: I told you that I need to write a report and get a print out. You'll get your pass back, but it does take some time.
Woman: Why don't you get on with it then?!
The two of them never struck up a conversation again, contentious or otherwise, but Woman repeated the entire escapade to the woman who sat down across from her at the next stop, who happened to be from Jamaica, which reminded Woman how much she loves Barbados. Or she did love Barbados, but she doesn't anymore because it's so expensive and too many rich people go there and she can't be asked to spend the same amount of money on food in Barbados as she does in London. And these buses – these buses are awful. They're set up so you can ride without paying – over half the people on this bus probably haven't paid. The old buses were better. The ones with conductors were better. But they'll be getting rid of these buses soon.
Woman: He ticketed me.
Jamaican Woman: What? He ticket you?
Woman: Yes.
Jamaican Woman: How much?
Woman: £25.
Jamaican Woman: I don't have 25p!
Woman: He's gone now.
Jamaican Woman: What?
Woman: He's gone.
And on and on…it wasn't her fault that she got ticketed, it was the woman in front of her – Polish, with a pushchair – and she pushed the button, but with the baby and everything it didn't work or she didn't notice…but they've given her the print out of her ticket usage and she always pays and there was money on her card. But she's not appealing, no point in appealing. There was a woman appealed, it was in the papers, and she lost the appeal and she had to pay the costs. So it's not good to appeal. But she's not paying it either.
Jamaican Woman: I don't have 25p!
Two things about the encounter struck me – first that the Woman and Inspector both used their natural politeness as a weapon. This seems to be an English thing. I was on a flight from Newark to London once. It was due to leave at 8am and all the passengers had somehow rolled out of bed and presented themselves at the airport by 6, only no one was getting checked in. We stood in a queue, waiting for instructions. Somewhere behind me was an older English lady, complaining with the sort of restrained indignation no American can truly muster, than she could not HEAR what was going ON. And REALLY, one might exPECT to be informed of any CHANGES to the SCHEDule, or if there was a PROBlem. Indeed, there was a problem, and the flight was delayed to the next morning, at which point she was in as persnickety a mood as the day before. She even managed to get upgraded to first class, complaining she was being stared at by people in the coach cabin: I don't wish to be looked at! Excuse me, sir, these BOYS are staring at me!
As an American, I have a good opinion of my ability to be righteously indignant, but no one can beat the Brits for polite aggression.
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