Here's the situation, as many of you know, i'm a spotty adolescent, i'm not an adult but i'm not a child, and i command less heed then both, society has no place for me, i'm an outcast, a rebel, and rock 'n' roll is the only way I can express myself. Ok, i might have romanticised my situation a tiny bit, but you get my point, rock 'n' roll has nothing to do with this post.
It has it's pros and cons, as i'm sure those few of you who weren't born at the age of 40 with a mortgage and a swolen ego will remember. One of the biggest prose is the "child when it suits me" routine, in certain circumstances, for example arguing about socialism with strangers on the internet, i am most certainly a mature adult, and that's what i'll want people to think, but in other situations, i'll play my "child when it suits me" card, i.e. I can get into the cinema for less, and when people are giving out confectionary to "children".
The public transportation field can be used in this way, a child's ticket is less than half the price of your average ticket and children (as far as west midlands busses are concerned) are those under the age of 15, but with a bit of persuasion, i can pay a child's fare.
Imagine the scene, i step onto a bus and drop in the 75p for my child's ticket to walsall "to walsall" i announce, to which the bus driver replies "it's one pound - sixty, mate, 75p is for childs", and then the mistake that cost me 35 minutes of daydreaming, i said those horrible words "you mean children".
He's a bus driver, he dosen't care what the plural of "child" is, it's not his job to care, the scowl i got was horrible, blood curdling, i didn't mean to say it, it slipped out.
My second mistake was to find a seat that was in the optimum bus driver scowling position, everytime he took his eyes of the road, it was to scowl at me through his huge convex mirror. I'd been looking forward to the busride every since i got up, 35 minutes of thinking about the day ahead, about life in general and about other things a confused man-child thinks about. These 35 minutes were racked with stress, with anger, i couldn't concentrate on fantasy with the sallow-faced bus driver, devoid of a shaving razor for at least 2 days, by my judgement, glancing up at me and giving me a look that said "you arrogant, horrible, horrible person".
That bus driver has haunted my dreams for almost a week now, and you all are the first person i've unleashed my shameful secret to, think yourselves lucky.