I’m waiting for a bus at a bus stop. I’m wearing a mask because I get sick easily, and public transport in New York is… well…

Stranger: “Why are you still wearing a mask?! It’s 2026!”

Me: “Not that it’s any of your business, but I get sick easily, so I keep it on when I’m out.”

Stranger: “You gotta pray.”

Me: “Huh?”

Stranger: “You gotta pray, and the Lord will keep you safe. Prayer works!”

Me: “Okay, well… you do you and I’ll do me.”

Stranger: “All those science people will have you thinking you wear a mask and you’re saved. Only the Lord saves, Saved with a capital ‘S’.”

Me: “Okay, well my bus is coming now, so—”

Stranger: “—The Lord and the Bible are all you need! Those scientists have an agenda!”

Me: *Mercifully getting on the bus.* “Well, bye!”

Stranger: *Shouting.* “Remember, don’t believe everything you read!”

Oh, the irony…

I walk up to a bus stop and sit on the bench. Next to me is another person, speaking loudly on the phone.

Stranger: “You need to figure out if there’s any other medication I can take except for this one!”

Pause.

Stranger: “Because it makes me fart like nothing else! I can’t trust them! I’ve been playing the ‘fart or sh*rt’ guessing game all f****** day, and I’ve lost three times! Hold up, my bus is here.”

To my horror, his bus pulling up is also my bus.

He boards, but I stay seated. I can wait for the next one…

I’m a bus driver. Child fares are for passengers aged fifteen and under. Passengers are boarding from the bus stop:

Passenger: “One child fare.”

This kid easily passes for fifteen years old, no issue there, but when he opens up his wallet to pay, I clock the provisional driving licence in it.

Me: “Is that licence yours? The picture looks an awful lot like you.”

Passenger: “Uh…”

Me: “Because if it is, that would mean you’re not able to get a child fare, as that licence is unavailable to anyone under sixteen years of age.”

Passenger: “Uh… no, it isn’t my licence. I just borrowed it off my twin brother.”

Me: “Twin brother?”

Passenger: “Yeah.” *Eyes widen as realisation dawns.* “S***.”

Me: *Laughing, allowing the child fare.* “Get on, mate, you gave me a laugh. Next time don’t be dishonest though, eh?”

The next time I saw him get on the bus (the next day), he paid adult fare.

My friend and I are waiting at a bus stop in London during Pride. We’re both decked out in rainbow shirts, and there are plenty of other people nearby wearing similar outfits.

An elderly woman at the stop keeps glancing around before finally addressing us.

Woman: “Excuse me, lads. Why is everyone wearing rainbows today?”

Friend: “It’s Pride.”

Woman: “Pride?”

Me: “Gay Pride.”

Woman: “Oh! I see.”

She thinks about this for a moment.

Woman: “You know, in my day, ‘gay’ meant being happy.”

Me: “That’s right.”

Woman: *Smiling at both of us.* “And looking at you two, it seems it still does. Stay happy, you handsome gents!”

Friend: “Thank you!”

Me: “You too!”

Woman: “Don’t worry. I plan on being gay until the day I die.”

Me: “Us too!”

Woman: “I mean in the happy sense, of course.”

Friend: “Of course.”

Woman: “Although I wouldn’t say no if the right lady came along.”

She points at the rainbow stickers we’ve been handing out.

Woman: “Here, give me one of those rainbow stickers for my coat, in case I meet a pretty lady on the bus!”

I’m waiting for a bus at a bus stop. A guy standing near me lights up a cigarette.

Me: “Excuse me, you can’t do that at a bus stop. Walk away if you’re smoking.”

The guy angles himself so that his back is to me and the bus stop. He continues smoking.

Me: “Oi! I know you can hear me! Stop smoking! There’s a sign!”

Guy: *Not turning around.* “I can’t see the sign, so it doesn’t apply.”

Me: “That’s not how it works, f***-cake. Put it out or walk away.”

Guy: *Still not turning around.* “Can’t see a sign, so I won’t.”

An old lady with (I assume) her grandson has been sitting at the bus stop. She gets up, walks up behind the man, and whacks him with her handbag. It’s not a hard hit, but it does startle him.

Guy: *Turning around.* “What the f—”

Old Lady: *In a thick Jamaican accent.* “Now you be turnin’ around, and you see the sign you dutty man!”

Guy: “Did you just hit me with your bag?!”

Me: “You didn’t see it happen, so it doesn’t apply.”

Guy: “I’m telling the bus driver what you did when he gets here!”

The guy actually stood there angrily for three minutes until the bus came. He pushed ahead of us to tell the bus driver he’d been assaulted. I then filled in the gaps in the guy’s story for the driver.

Driver: “So what I got from that was, you were illegally smoking at a bus stop in front of a child, asked to stop, refused, and grandma made a move to protect said child. Yeah, not looking good for you, is it mate?”

Guy: “I want you to call the police!”

Driver: “Feel free, from the pavement. I have a route to finish, and my passengers are getting impatient.”

The guy grunts but then tries to get on the bus.

Driver: “Mate, if you think you’re getting on this bus, you’re deluded. You take one more step closer, and I will be the one calling the police.”

He starts swearing loudly, but with everyone against him (now including all the bus passengers), he angrily steps off the bus. He makes a show of getting his phone out as old Jamaican lady, her grandson, and I get on the bus.

Guy: “I’m calling ‘Transport For London’ and reporting you!”

Driver: “You sound stressed, mate. Have a ciggie and calm down.” *Closes bus door and drives off.*

I gave the bus driver my email in case he needed someone to tell the true story to defend him if that guy called to complain.