Hail to the Bus Driver! This entry is dedicated to the men and women who regularly drive me around the city. I thought perhaps I could write a poem for the occasion. But if you ever read one of my poems you will understand why I choose not to make them public property. What is a fitting tribute for those who endeavour to take on the monumental task of driving a bus? Well some well directed ramblings will have to suffice!

I do not doubt that there are some truly horrible people out there driving buses. Quite often people have a nasty word or two to say about our fellow transportation officers. But the majority of my experiences tell me that most drivers are not of this ilk.         

Apart from the obvious trial of having to manoeuvre such a beast of a vehicle around streets clearly designed for much smaller cars, there is also the task of managing the great unwashed. Ah yes, that would be us, the hoards of passengers who take the public transport service for granted. Not only do we take the service for granted, but the drivers too.

An important part of mapping these bus journeys is talking about the types of people that I see on the bus everyday. While the selection of passengers is wildly diverse and ever- changing, the constant figure on every bus is the driver. I believe it takes a good sort to be a bus driver. A first-class bus driver is authoritative without being overpowering, even- tempered and most importantly: good at handling stressful situations! Of course, all bus drivers have their quirks. Some always wear the same hat, others greet everyone with the same salutation, some are very vocal about other drivers, and I met a driver the other day who liked to sing while on the road (before you ask, no, I couldn’t tell what the song was, he wasn’t very good).

I had a lovely experience on my trip to the airport (just for the record, I wasn’t flying anywhere; you just never know when you might need to know how to get to the airport by bus!). The airport stop is outside on Lichfield St at the Bus Exchange (I asked a very informative Metro employee where it was). I waited for about ten minutes for the bus (they usually go every half hour during the day), and it was a lovely journey through the city, Burnside and Fendalton.

For all you ice enthusiasts out there, the Antarctic centre (or ‘artic centre’ as I heard an English tourist incorrectly refer to it) is on the way to the airport. Our fantastic driver made sure this English lady and company got off at the right stop and pointed out the building to them. The wonderful thing about these unsung heroes is that they have great knowledge of our city, if you’re ever stuck, ask.

We reached the airport after a half hour journey. I got off, took the obligatory photo (what’s the use of having a fancy work camera at your disposal if you can’t use it!) and went inside for a wee look.

I have been to the airport before (it was where I made my Christchurch debut) so I had a fair idea of what things would be like. There was the standard duty free shop, café and check in counters. I was so starving I was forced to indulge in a pie (golf ball of fat and all that, I know, I know…) and it was delicious (highlight of the trip even)! I got back on the bus (No. 10 Cashmere via city Exchange) and it took me back to the city.

In light of my tribute to the drivers of our Metro system I thought I would ask some friends if they had any good stories about particular drivers who had stood out for them. There were heaps, drivers who drop people at their doors on particularly dark and stormy nights, drivers who intervene when an argument gets out of control, drivers who call their passengers by name, drivers who see you running for the bus stop and wait, even the driver who sang his way into the city and put a smile on my face. 

If you have any good bus driver stories you’d like to share, let me know by sending me an email: sophia@metroinfo.org.nz or let Metroinfo know and they might win bus driver of the month: Phone (03) 366 88 55.