Intrepid travelling

I'm writing this on the maddening small laptop that belongs to my uncle. The writing on the screen is miniscule and the keys are tiny. It seems that as technology gets better, the devices get smaller. For someone with eyes as "reluctant" as mine, they're downright annoying.

Yesterday I travelled from one side of Sydney to the other. Litterally. All with public transport no less. I set off at 10,45am in a taxi to the local train station. I hopped on a train and sped down the mountain to Sydney. I got to uni at around 12, went to the library, up to the queerspace, back to the library and eventually to class. All week I've been trying to put my finger on who my proffessor reminds me of. Today it hit me. The shopkeeper in Little Brittain that shouts out to his unseen wife Margaret. (I tried to find a photo of him but no luck... I'll keep looking when I get home and can use my own laptop, not this backwards contraption).

After class J and I headed up to the library to find some books for an assignment. We were on level 3 using the catalogue and she had to go up to level 4, while I had to go to the toilet (level 2) and see the IT desk (also level 2). So I told her to go up to four and I'd meet her where the book is. I went downstairs, did my thing and then returned to level 4. No J. I went back to the catalogues on 3. No J. I went to the christian history books on 3 (the next likely place). No J. I went back to level 4. No J. At this point I realised the chances of finding her were slim to none, since neither of us had our phones (mine was in my locker, her's was at home, uncharged). So I went outside for a cigarette, to see if she'd come out while I was waiting. She didn't, so I figured she must have gone home, realising the same thing, so I headed off to level 4 to get my books, ducked in level 3 in a vain hope she would be there, went back down to level 2 to borrow the books. I was just placing my books on the scanner when she came up behind me. "There you are!" She explained that she had gone to SQ 322 instead of S 322, which was why I couldn't find her, since they are on opposite ends of the floor.

We soon headed off and I was walking along chatting with her when I felt a sudden feeling of unease. I felt strangely naked. I realised I had left my walking stick in the library. I went back and found it pretty quickly next to the loans desk, and scurried out as quickly as my three legs could carry me. I made my way out to the bus stop and watched in disbelief as I missed the last bus to central. Or rather, it missed me, since it was 7,08pm, and it was timetabled to arrive at 7,10pm. I sat down and had a cigarette. To calm my nerves of course.

I had three options: a) walk to the other end of campus and catch a bus to Central; b) catch a bus to Bondi Junction and then get the train to Burwood or c) catch a bus to Burwood. The added complication was that the connecting bus from Central ran every 30 minutes so I was looking at a long journey no matter what I did. I definately was not, under any circumstances, walking to the other end of campus. It just wasn't a possibility. It is possible to walk from one end of campus to the other without using any stairs but its such a long way. The bus to Burwood was not such a great prospect because it took a real long way around getting there, and I wasn't willing to bet that there was one at this hour of the night. So that left a bus to Bondi Junction.

Fifteen minutes later I was on the bus going to Bondi (7,25). I was acutely aware that the lady behind me was coughing. Didn't she read the signs that say to cover your mouth on the bus!? I got to Bondi, the eastern-most point of my journey and hopped on a train (7,45) to Town Hall, where I changed to a western train to Burwood. At Burwood (8,20) I realised there were no busses to my Pop's place until 9pm. I called my aunt to ask if she would mind swinging by and picking me up. She said she wouldn't mind at all, if only she had the car. I wandered over and got a taxi, finally schlepping through the door at 8,40. Interesting this is only 10 minutes more than if I had have actually caught the bus at 7,10.

Not only is it cheaper to do things the way I usually do, but it is actually better on a more existential level. There's nothing like being in a ricketty bus full of uni students that is hurtling down Foveaux St at the speed of light to instil a real fear for God, a real sense of mortality and a feeling of total insignificance in the grand scheme of things.