#bus 27

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Last bus timing for Service 27 to be extended

Last bus timing for Service 27 to be extended

Last edited 29 August 2017. – From 11 September 2017, the operational hours of Bus Service 27 has been extended to end at 2350 h instead of 2335 h. The last bus will depart Hougang Central Bus Interchange at 2350 h.

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[looking-for-london]

bus 27.

         "Bus 27, that's the one!"           Cal pointed at a red double-decker bus as it made its way down the street, coming to a very abrupt stop just centimeters away from the curb.           "This'll take us all the way to Morrison's, it's at the end of the line," said Cal, as the bus's doors opened to let us on.          I stepped onto the bus and although the bottom level was empty, made my way up the stairs behind Cal’s tall, slender figure. We both wanted the same thing, to sit in the front row on the top level. Besides from having the best view of the city streets, the view from those seats amplified the thrill of a London bus driver’s tenacious maneuvering.          We got to the top level to find only two other passengers. One was a woman. She was average height and looked to be in her early 30s. She wore blue jeans and a light grey jacket. Her wavy, blonde hair went down to her shoulders and she was holding a young baby that was awake and looking around with very wide eyes. The other passenger was a man who looked to be in his 50s. He was a little taller than 6 foot, with grey hair mostly covered by a tan flat cap. He wore a black jacket and jeans and was reading the sports section of the day’s newspaper.          These strangers had nothing in common besides the fact that they were both in the front row of the bus. The bus began moving again before we sat, but Cal and I sat down two rows behind the other passengers. They were each only taking up one seat in the row of four, but we decided to obey the unwritten code of personal space.           Once we were comfortably in our seats, Cal reached inside his black coat, took out his iPod and put in his ear buds. He does this a lot when we ride public transportation together. I knew him before coming to London. We both went to the same university in America and although we shared a lot of the same friends, we didn’t exactly call up each other on weekends. I know that Cal’s very friendly, but also very enigmatic. When he doesn’t talk, it’s not because he’s being mean, it’s just the way he is. I don’t mind the silence. I push up the sleeves to my burgundy sweater and turn my attention to the window.          I begin thinking about how much more fun I’d be having if I were in the front row. I cast my eyes toward the two people I am envying and find something peculiar developing. The man lets out a loud sigh, folds up his newspaper and stuffs it inside his jacket. He begins to look around the bus until his eyes land on the woman, across the aisle to his left. His eyes narrow as his nose crinkles. He seemed to be thinking very hard about something. The woman hadn’t yet noticed the man’s fascination with her as she rocked her baby in her arms, humming a tune that I didn’t know.          “AH!” exclaimed the man.          The woman and I flinched simultaneously. Cal’s music must have been quite loud because he didn’t seem to notice.          “Are you from Turkey?” asked the man.          It was a question, but his confidence almost made it seem like a statement. The woman turned to meet his stare.          “Yes. Yes I am,” She replied, her disbelief shining in her eyes.          The man laughed. He then began to speak to her in what I assumed to be Turkish. At first, the woman was very reserved. She was trying to be polite, but the spontaneity of the conversation obviously caught her off guard. Gradually, she began to respond to the man’s friendly tone and become more comfortable. By the time the bus reached Morrison’s at the end of the line, a new friendship had formed. At least I think so. From what I could gather, they talked about Istanbul and the woman’s baby. The four of us stood up and exited the bus. The woman walked into Morrison’s ahead of us and after waving goodbye to the baby, the man made his way across the street.          While shopping for the cheap meat that we heard rumors about in Morrison’s, I kept thinking about what I had witnessed: the power of conversation. There have been numerous times when I have held my tongue when I had something to say to a stranger. Whether it is a comment or compliment, for some reason, I usually stay silent. I’m not insulting anyone or anything, so what am I so afraid of? Still unsure of whether or not the answer was as simple “nothing,” I got back on the bus 27. Cal and I scanned our Oyster cards and ran to the top level to find an empty bus. Joyfully, we raced to the front row and plopped ourselves down. Cal pulled out his iPod, but before he could put in his ear buds, I turned to him and started a conversation. With a smile on his face, my friend tucked his iPod back into his pocket and talked back. 

  30/9/13 - 11:11pm

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Mi historia en Dublín 

-La noche en que conocí a Danhi.