So. Have you ever stood waiting on a bus so long that you start to wonder if it went past and you somehow blinked and missed it?
You get to the bus stop early, as one must always do to ensure that they only run a few minutes late. The electronic trackermajig says the bus is due in 5 minutes... then 4... 3... 2... 1... DUE. Due. Due. Due.
Then BAM, 18 minutes.
No bus has gone past. Well, there was a 5. But that's not my bus. Maybe the chip for my one was accidentally put in a number 5? But surely that isn't how it works. Maybe it's stuck in tram lines or a pot hole on Princes Street, just out of sight? The driver could be revving like a motherlicker, but it's just making things worse and the tyres are getting even more stuck in the obstruction.
Unless... the driver forgot which route he or she was on. Maybe when the tracker said 'due' it was sheepishly trundling up the mound?
Perhaps my bus has been fitted with a perception filter, for the amusement of the guys in the CCTV office watching confused punters at the bus stop. It did actually go past, but we all saw a cyclist with trousers tucked into his fluorescent socks. Or, maybe the big clock is right and everyone else in the universe is 5 minutes behind, in which case the thing was actually gone before I got there.
Is it just me that goes through this psychological trauma? Surely not. I can't be the only one riddled with self-doubt over the inner workings of public transport.
"Maxi Jazz is somewhat more sonically progressive than my dad." - Captain Tact