Will the Bellend?

 I do like a bus with a stop bell that perforates your eardrum. 

Some might say it's a niche way to find enjoyment. These people are notable in their absence. That said, I'm currently solely in the company of my wife and cat (two separate beings) and, so far, we haven't discussed the subject.

I travelled on such a vehicle tonight. I was on my way to Letchworth for my weekly meditation class. Public transport is scarce to my destination in the evening; the only option is the 535, which gives me just five minutes to walk from my alighting stop to my class. That's if the bus is on time. Last week it was ten minutes early and I missed it. Tonight it was fifteen minutes late.  The only way to guarantee transportation on the 535 is to drive it. I don't want to do that. If I did, I wouldn't be able to get off until we reached the depot.

The bus snuck up on me. The outside display was off. For all I knew, it could have been an elaborate kidnapping ploy by an attacker with means. If so, fair play to them. It's nice to be wanted.

I was only moments into my journey before someone pressed the buzzer. Before they had, I'd wondered if it was working; perhaps the bell and the outside display were all part of the same mechanism. By God, was I wrong. Just a brief touch of the button brought forth an automated sound that barged its way down the ear canal and into my soul. My capacity for hearing high frequencies was lost in an instant. I'd never enjoy Jean-Michel Jarre's Popcorn again. The song, not the foodstuff.

This left me in a quandary: should I press the buzzer myself when my stop was in sight, risking permanent deafness, or remain on the bus for the rest of my life? In the end, I pressed it. It's better to be the instigator of your own hearing loss than to let someone else's button-pressing do it (something my nan always said to me).

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