Follow-up to the Irish bus driver

In 2003 my roommate from Spain and I did a tour of the "British Isles" though I found out later I was using the wrong label for our trip through England, Ireland, and Scotland. We took a bus tour on a rainy morning to the cliffs of Moher, stopping at various stone ruins and natural caves along the way.

It poured and poured all day until the instant we pulled up to the cliffs. Suddenly, the sun broke out and for the next 30 minutes we had sunshine (with unfortunately still-slippery rocks my roommate slipped and sprained her ankle on) for our time at the famous and fabulous cliffs. Our bus driver assured us, "God is smiling down upon us today, smiling down."

He was a funny little man, surely someone's grandpa who had been driving this bus for 40 years and would continue to do so until he dropped dead. He had the kind of formless mouth common in old people, with a wet tongue and wet lips that you could hear in his speech.

On the way back from the cliffs we stopped in a small town and ate pub food with Guinness as a primary ingredient. I had Guinness stew. So did the bus driver. He sat alone at the bar, eating slowly; surely he knew all the regulars, having passed through once a day for several decades, but other than a few friendly nods he kept to himself until we got back on the bus. We arrived in Galway three hours late, causing most of us to miss an evening bus back to Dublin, but our driver was nonplussed. "Surely the day was worth taking a later bus, there is a later bus to take."

A few years later I was comparing Ireland stories with a friend who had lived there for some months. We discovered that we'd both taken trips to the cliffs of Moher from the tiny town of Galway. "I had the funniest bus driver," he told me. "I did, too!" I responded. "He repeated everything he said. "Mine did, too!" I exclaimed. We eyed each other, hoping the answer to his next question was yes. "Was his name Desmond?" "NO WAY!!" We laughed and laughed at the happy coincidence. Then he asked me, "Did he call them wee-wee breaks on your tour?"

I couldn't remember, but I like to think that he did.

Wee-Wee Break

This was on a bus tour around the gorgeous Ring of Kerry in the southwest corner of Ireland in 2004.

The bus driver was tiny and frail. In another country, his license probably would have been revoked at least a hundred years ago. Before departing, he gave us a preview of the trip over the intercom, repeating everything in the following manner. "And then we will see the Cliffs of Moher. The Cliffs of Moher is what we will see." He did this for the duration of the trip.

Before we took off he told us in his flat, grumpy Irish accent, "At 11:30 we will stop for our first wee-wee break." There were a few snickers on board, and he waited until they died down to continue. "You may laugh at your wee-wee break now," he said humorlessly, "but you all probably drank a few drinks last night, or a couple cups of coffee this morning and I assure you, you'll be damn thankful for your wee-wee break when the time comes."

Bus Win*

I was on the phone with my mother, on my way out of my condo for the first time in 24 hours on account of being sick. Perhaps I wasn't quite ready to leave my illness coccoon, because I misplaced my bus pass within three minutes of finding it. My mother was waxing sentimental about how similar my cousin and I looked, and how sweet it was that my cousin had the same large ribcage as I did (something my cousin had shared when she'd been in Seattle trying on wedding dresses.) Finally, with one minute before the bus came, I told my mom I needed to call her back.

I finally found my pass in the pocket of my sweater, which I was wearing underneath my poofy down jacket. Sick and weak, I ran from my place to the bus stop, thinking I didn't have a chance in hell. I saw the bus two blocks away, then one, from my vantage point on the hill I was running down. Then, only a parking lot and an intersection away, I saw it reach my stop. I kept running, banging on the crosswalk button. The bus started peeling away just as the sign changed. I waved my arms, but the bus was already pulling out. Then, it stopped! I rounded the bus' corner and the kindest-looking white-haired bus driver said "Hey! Saw you back there! Glad ya made it!" When was the last time that happened to anyone??

*Perhaps not the most interesting bus story, but, it's time to get this blog going again! Allez!