Bus Route 51

I suffer from panic attacks, also known as anxiety attacks or panic disorders. This is a type of anxiety disorder in which someone has repeated attacks of intense fear that something bad will occur when not expected. Symptoms can include feelings of extreme nervousness, sweating palms, cold hands, hot forehead, feeling sick and being sick.

Over the years, my disorder has become worse; starting out as a simple butterfly stomach before having to give a speech or go onstage etc but as time has gone by, it has gotten worse. When placed in certain exciting or worrying situations is when it’s at its worse and apparently the only way I can get out of it is by seeing the doctor who can prescribe me pills with thousands of different side effects (which aren’t any better than the disorder itself) or by using a paper bag. I don’t use either of these techniques. Instead I breathe deeply in and out, trying to control my breathing and concentrating on getting rid of the upset stomach. Although it rarely ever works, I refuse to take any other kinds of action.

So as I’m sat here on the bus and the woman is asking where my ticket is and I’m desperately searching for it, I feel the disorder signs creeping in as my heart begins to race and my fingers almost shake as I pull back the zip on my bag. I also hate being watched in these kinds of situations so it makes it all worse as some guy in one of those bright yellow jackets stares as me rummaging through my four coat pockets and many many many pockets of my bag. I try to ignore his ogling and carry on, finding a couple of old tickets but no sign of the new one.

Why are they even checking anyway? They never usually bother! Plus it’s a total waste of paper when you’ve only bought a single and the driver has literally only just seen you-
“Found it yet, dear?” asks the woman with the ticket machine. I sigh heavily, thinking how much she’s enjoying the idea of charging me another three pounds fifty for a half an hour journey. She smiled at me, patiently watching as I check and re-check the pockets again. By this time I’m pretty fed up because I know I’ve already paid and I’d just travelled five hours on the bloody train from visiting relatives.

“I can’t find it anywhere.” I sigh again, catching the eye of the guy who’d watched the whole shebang and noticing he’s not as thuggish as I’d originally thought. Usually, you see, most of the young men in the bright yellow jackets don’t give a shit about anything, smoke about fifty a day and spit on passing pedestrians when doing road works so naturally when I got on the bus in the first place (moving to my normal second-floor-right-at-the-front seat) and saw him at a glance, he seemed another typically annoying guy at about twenty years old.

I suddenly think about checking in the carrier bag and watch out of the corner of my eye the guy reaching towards his own ticket and checking the floor. I know I didn’t drop it- I always cling onto the ticket before I get sat down. I secretly thank him for his small effort anyway.

“Well, was it a return or single?” the woman asks, clearly forcing out the smile now as she begins to lose patience.
“Single.” I reply quickly and quietly, sifting through the two crisp packets and spare drinks that I packed for the long journey. “I just don’t have a clue where it is!”
“I could-“ the guy began.
“AHA!!” just as he started speaking I’d seen the little bugger stuck to the inside of the carrier bag, fresh with no crumples or dirt, seemingly smirking at me as I grabbed it and almost shoved it at the woman.
“Found it!” I said- almost shouted- proudly as her grin almost faded. She was looking forward to charging me more, I could tell.
“After all that kerfuffle you must be glad we found it, dear, thank you.” And with that she popped the ticket into her pocket and walked away. I heaved a massive sigh of relief and slumped back into my chair, trying to calm down my heart and keep down the rising feeling of being sick.

But just as I begin to relax, I once again feel the gaze of the Yellow Jacket Guy- his newly found name. I allowed myself to look at him properly yet quickly, scanning his face for any signs of him laughing. He smiled broadly, the crinkles around his blue eyes drawing attention to the small amused glint which had just appeared.
“I’ve never had it checked before.” I said hurriedly, shrugging my shoulders and giggling embarrassedly like a lunatic. I didn’t expect an answer as most people aren’t very talkative where I lived so I was surprised when he kept the smile and replied:
“It’s the first time I’ve ever been checked, too.” He chuckled and I noticed the rather attractive ring to his laughter, causing my face to flush and almost start grinning like an idiot. I control myself and look out of the steamed up window. I was shocked to find my mouth continuing the conversation on its own and even more shocked to find my neck turning my head back to look at him:

“I was starting to panic a bit there. I knew I had it. Just never thought anyone would ever check it!” I’d said it far too swiftly and stupidly he was bound to notice my nervousness but he just smiled, causing my insides to warm. Thinking I wasn’t going to get a reply and noticing the butterflies in my stomach once again, I faced the window, tempted to draw a smiley face using the tip of my thumb.
“I wouldn’t have left you in that situation,” he suddenly said. “I noticed as you were going through your purse that you didn’t have change- I would have paid her so you didn’t have to go out into the rain.”

I don’t know when I started speaking again. It felt like we were the only two people in the world having a conversation at that moment and the other people didn’t matter. The fact I had coursework left to do didn’t matter, the fact I had a music essay to hand in didn’t matter, the fact I had to unpack from the journey didn’t matter, the poor people walking home in the pouring rain didn’t matter. It was just him and me in a happy little bubble. What the hell was this?

“Th-thanks.” I managed, not knowing what else to say and then randomly: “I went to visit relatives over the weekend. Been on a five hour train journey so I didn’t think I’d need any more change than just a single home.”
“You live in Louth, then?” he asked. I think as a brief joke the word ‘stalker’ popped into my head but I forced it out and carried on, desperately trying to keep the conversation alight and also thinking how inappropriate that thought was. They can stuff the rule of not talking to strangers.
“Yes. Just come from Hereford. Beautiful place.” I was such an idiot. But Yellow Jacket Guy just carried on smiling kindly until I faced away yet again and literally drew a smiley face on the window with my thumb. Smirking back at it, I watched the familiar landscape of the area just outside Louth, wishing I could say something else to amuse him but failing to conjure anything up.

Funny thing was I don’t think I was the only one wondering what to say. I don’t think I was the only one desperate to ask the stranger’s name and continue a bright conversation. Why? Because after almost eighteen years of being on the planet and ten years of fancying boys, I noticed that when they want to say something or are excited or nervous about something, their leg goes into some sort of...well...vibrating attack. They seem to shake their leg and intertwine their hands, opening and closing their mouth as they want to begin saying something.

And so I looked forward, watching the road, thinking how there were literally just forty seconds left of this moment- this knowing, this intensity, of liking someone very very very much despite not having a clue of their past or their personal identity and reckoning they felt exactly the same way.

He glanced at me twice, thrice and then a fourth time where I allowed myself to return that glance and almost melted away. I snapped my head back to the window, just one more stop away from mine-
Ding. The bell for the stop rang and I saw Yellow Jacket Guy get up, gathering his wallet, phone and drink. This wasn’t my stop. I was planning on getting off before him so I could glance back up at the bus and wave to him. I had planned the entire goodbye scene in my head: I would talk to him quickly before I went downstairs then as I get off the bus I would look up and wave at him if he were looking at me then glance back a few more times as he was driven away. But no. Life is a bitch.

Then he spoke to me.
“Take care of yourself,” he said with a small nod and I noticed his golden blond hair properly for the first time. “And remember which pocket or bag you’ve put your ticket in and bring extra change- just in case.”
I laughed a bit too much at what he said and must have given him a thousand waves and goodbyes before I saw him disappear down the stairs. I heard him thank the driver and watched as he stepped out onto the path. My heart stopped as he turned to look up at me, smiling and waving. I raised my hand and gave him the best smile that I could, desperately watching after him as he turned to walk away. I couldn’t take my eyes away from him as he carried on walking down the path and as the bus started up again and began to leave, he glanced back smiling once more. My heart hammered against my ribs and I laughed as he continued to glance back at me half a dozen times more.

Just goes to show you can find your soul mate anywhere when you’re least expecting. Just stop looking. I’ve been with him for two and a half years now and it’s still going strong.