This happened a few days ago but I've been busy spending time with my girlfriend so you're getting this story now.
This story starts, as all of my stories do this summer, with me travelling by MegaBus, that glorious cross-country barn bus, containing only three types of people: students, last minute travellers short of train money, and the psychologically unstable. The man I am about to describe to you is the latter.
I got on the bus from Birmingham at around 17:00 after coming straight from work, to travel, as usual, back to Leeds. I throw my luggage in the hold and take my backpack onto the bus.
Next to me sits a man, let's call him Frankie (not his real name). Frankie slumps down onto his set, dropping his Sports Direct bag-for-life containing, what I assume, is his stuff. He's dressed in his day-off clothes but hey, I'm not judging, I'm still wearing my Maccy's trousers.
Frankie's beard is moderately long and unkempt, different swirls at different lengths, patchy and inconsistent throughout. His eyes are brown, he looks at me, silent.
I'm not alarmed, this is nothing out of the usual. I begin reading my book, the bus sets off. Five minutes into the ride I hear "It's busy today isn't it." I look up, Frankie has spoken.
At this point I was pleased, he wanted to talk, great! There's nothing that makes a bus ride go faster than talking to someone. I put my book down. "Yeah, hopefully it'll clear up when we're out of the city centre and it'll be a clear motorway ahead" (Ha! How wrong was I!).
Within a few miles I'd learned a lot about Frankie. He'd moved to Birmingham a few months ago, having been around different parts of the country ever since. The man was better unemployment and unemployment. He got updates from a football team he: a) Didn't like, b) Were only an amateur team, and c) Had never played for. Odd, but not yet crazy.
It was when he said, "I've been to court a few times. Mostly just assault and arson."
Oh shit!
So now I wasn't just sitting next to Frankie, the strange Megabus guy. But instead it was Frankie, the mentally unstable arsonist. But even that wasn't the bad part.
After a long discussion on football and how Leicester and Iceland winning were just so ridiculously unforeseen, he began talking about police.
"All police are evil. They all want to kill you." He said.
"I disagree, there are a few bad apples in there but the majority are nice enough," I replied.
"No, if I ever see them hurting someone, I'll take their eyes out with forks." He exclaimed
And thus began an energetic and graphic thirty to forty minute rant on police. A rant that scared me and the surrounding passengers.
How had I got myself in this mess? Listening to a man discuss how exactly he was going to get back at the police who were clearly out to get him. I mean, I've met some crazies in my time but this man, he took the biscuit. All I could think, as he was describing his manner of attack was, 'Dude, chill, it's a six o'clock on the Megabus to Manchester. Take it easy pal.'
I'm not sure how long it took to finish those last fifty miles, all I know was that in that time a lot happened. Children were born, grew up, and died. Policies were altered. Empires rose and fell and rose again from the ashes. Continents shifted to form new continents. The sun swelled, shed its atmosphere, and died.
Needless to say, it was a long time.
But he did get off. And I lived to tell the tale. The tale of Frankie, the crazy guy who apparently lived in my neighbourhood.
Let's hope he never moves back my way.
All the best folks
Additional: I don't feel guilty writing this. The man insulted Leeds. He holds no special place for me.
No comments:
Post a Comment