May 8th 2022

Today I took like every form of public transport available to me to get home from Bucharest and, along the way, heard pretty much all of the things you don’t want to hear when using public transport.

Step 1: a taxi to the airport in which, as we fumbled around looking for seatbelts, the driver turned to us and said “no clips” and then proceeded to drive like a fucking idiot. Although, to be fair to him, everyone in Bucharest drives like a fucking idiot. So really he was just driving normally, while frequently changing lanes to under or overtake at high speeds.

Step 2: at the airport for a plane from Bucharest to Stansted, we saw a departures board with only one delayed flight. Yep. Ours. +90 minutes.

Then it got worse.

Step 3: Rail. Replacement. Bus.

I think the Guinness World Record for the shortest written horror story should go to the phrase “Rail Replacement Bus.”

And so, instead of a train then a tube then a train, my journey from Stansted to Cheltenham went: bus, tube, tube, train, train.

I’m never flying from Stansted again. it’s fucking miles away. And getting there and back costs me more than flying from there saves, so really there’s no good reason to fly from there other than the fact that Duff lives across the road from it.

Step 4: an electric scooter. Like fuck was I going to walk back from the station.

Until tomorrow, I’m home.


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