An open letter to the No. 11 bus in Dublin.


Dear No. 11 Bus,

What the hell happened today? What was that? The sign said you were due for ages and then you never showed. I’m waiting there IN. THE. RAIN. for you. And you’re telling me
‘Almost there… almost there’.
And then you know what, you never arrived and it no longer said you were coming.
And the sign says ‘Hey, the 16 will be here in quarter of an hour’.
I’m not getting any younger, my time is precious, I could have gone through the menopause waiting for that 16.

Thing is 11, this isn’t the first time you’ve screwed me over like this. Other times it’s when I’m going to work. The sign says you’re coming and you either never show or show up after the sign says you’re gone. Sure, you can blame the sign but none of the other buses are dicking around.

Sometimes I’m with my friends, and I tell them you’re gonna show and they get really excited and either you’re late or turn up stinking of booze with these strangers. It’s like I don’t know where you’re coming from anymore, seriously, I think they changed your route.

But I’m just writing to let you know that I’m going to start seeing other buses. Sure, they don’t bring me all the way like you do, but I can bring myself the rest of the way. I’ve gotten used to it!

If you can’t change, then I can’t change you. By change you, I mean put change in you.
I hope you understand.
Even though you probably won’t, because you’re a bus.

xx

Maria

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