Sinister: why don't people fall over more getting off buses?

[Neil Dewhurst]

This is a serious point, and one which always occurs to me when I stand up
laden with bags and lurch inelegantly towards the "press" button before
skewing off towards the door, or, more probably, an elderly blind lady or a
large tattooed ex-con.

I've only ever seen one person injure themselves badly on attempting to
leave a bus, which is surprising given the number I've travelled on.  I was
on my way home to Pamber End just north of Basingstoke in lovely North
Hampshire when an elderly gentleman stood up to get off the bus.  He pressed
the button in the usual fashion, and started moving down to the front of the
bus.  His confident swagger proved to be his undoing however, as I shall
relate.

The beginning

The bus stop he chose to exit at is by far the most dangerously placed
bus-stop in the known-world.  Placed just after a nasty ninety-degree right
hand corner, and on a straight strip of road of the sort of length which for
some reason obliges bus drivers to accelerate as hard as possible from a
standing start only to come to a sudden halt ten yards past the bus stop, it
represents a death-trap to the unsound of foot.  On this particular
occasion, the driver (who we shall call Cuthbert because I don't think
there's ever been a bus-driver called Cuthbert) recorded a personal best
time for this eighty yard section of road and was forced to brake even more
sharply than usual.  The old man, who shall remain nameless to protect his
dignity, was caught unawares, sauntering as he was along the aisle.
Suddenly he found himself running instead of walking, and then, as he tried
to latch onto some kind of rail to act as a brake, spun round and running
backwards towards the front of the bus.  The bus and the old man stopped at
the same time - the bus ten yards past its stop, and the old man in a heap
at the front of the bus.  Cuthbert leaned out of his booth, his face showing
a blank lack of concern for the casualty he had created.  A middle-aged lady
ran to the victim's aid, and after a moment the bus crawled forwards.

The bus took a small diversion before its next scheduled stop, for fortune
had been smiling on this poor elderly spinning gentleman, in the shape of
the North Hants County Hospital.  After a while a wheelchair was brought out
and the man was taken into the big white building of health.  Cuthbert
resumed his mad bus driving behaviour, and I went home and wondered, as I
still do, whether he was trying to get to the hospital anyway.  Perhaps he
was visiting someone, or perhaps he was on his way to receive treatment.  It
shows the cruelty in me that I even wonder if he might have been on his way
to see an ear specialist about the recent deterioration in his sense of
balance.

The end

For those of you still with me - thank you for listening.

PS - would being 24 and buying a Bruce Hornsby album for £1.99 in order to
recapture the days of youth and "The way it is" be considered a sad thing?
I thought so.
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