The Rendezvous 1

It was a bitch trying to get on a bus last Holy Wednesday. I found myself at the station around 1230am, hoping that the crowd would've thinned out by then. But no. It seemed that every minute, people would be coming in like uninvited guests to a fabulous party (how there'd be a fabulous party at a bus station is anybody's guess). The disheveled serving counter handed me out a number written on some crappy scratch paper: number 552. I kindly asked what number was being served, and I got a curt reply: number 346. Then I asked what time would I probably get on a bus. I got an even more curt reply: around 2:30 a.m. All I could do was sigh, and find a spot where I could either puff away till kingdom come, or wait till someone gassed everyone (I, the bus driver, and the conductor not included) so I could have next bus that was about to leave all to myself.

2:30 a.m. came and went without whatsoever sign of a ticket being handed over to me. At around 3:30 a.m., people started to get extremely restless. Well, that's putting it mildly. More accurately, it was more like the ticketing counter had a revolt on their hands. Some granny was loudly complaining that she had been waiting since 12 midnight, and she still hadn't been served yet. The whole crowd started backing up her arguments. Poor ticketing girl fled her counter, and some burly guy took over, barking out the serving numbers one by one. Granny got issued her tickets. So did I. Unfortunately, the rest of the people soon after me ran out of luck. Spaces were already filled, and they had to wait again till more buses arrived. That part of their Calvary still continued. I had to face a new one: a 10 hour or so trip on a bus, beside a fellow stranger, on the unending expanse leading up north.

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But all the harassment was worth it.

Because I got to see Spice.

The Rendezvous 2