Have you ever had one of those days where you wonder if you have woken up in a parallel universe? Where all kinds of weird inexplicably happens to you at every turn? I did one day last week, but thankfully it was all kinds of good weird. And I still can’t get my head around it.
But of all the weird to arrest me on this particular day, nothing could match not just my bus trip into the city, but the inescapable feeling I had accidentally entered a mobile version of the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
I had intended to walk into town for my appointment – in Queensland “town” is used to describe anything close to a CBD. In my case, I live within walking distance of the city of Brisbane and it is an easy and pleasant walk along the river. But as soon as I left my building, the suffocating heat of an October heat wave day swept over me. I was determined though and did the mental coin toss – do I walk into town using the main roads or the river walk. In this heat it was a no brainer.
I crossed the road to get to the river quickly but found myself within seconds at a bus stop. Every step was hard in the heat and as I spied a bus trundling down the main road, I decided what the hell and opted for the bus.
But as the bus edged closer to me, I noticed it was an Express bus and as such would not stop at my stop. On a whim I stuck out my hand to see what would happen and the bus did indeed stop. Surprised I climbed aboard to hear the jovial giggling of the bus driver announce “I know I’m not supposed to stop here, but I stop where I want to”. The driver followed this with a totally bizarre laugh which caught my attention more for how out of place it was than anything else.
There were a smattering of other passengers on the bus and they all seemed to be egging on the driver who then announced that rather than head straight into town, had decided to detour to the cultural precinct. It was not a major detour but was quite unprecedented in my bus travelling days in Brisbane. The other passengers on the bus giggled away and kept egging on the driver.
“What the hell is going on” kept wandering through my head. Then I felt a pair of eyes bearing down on me. I looked to my right to see a large, dark woman probably in her 40s, staring intently at me. I smiled. She did not. Just then I felt a shudder behind me. I looked around and saw an older lady, perhaps in her 60s violently shaking the seat in front of her. Okay, this was getting really weird. She glared at me, challengingly. I increased the volume on my iPod.
I had thought or hoped the bus driver was joking when he announced we would be touring the cultural precinct of Brisbane. He was not. The bus turned the corner onto the bridge to take us on to the other side of the river. The guy seated closest to the driver asked if this was part of the normal route. He was told no. They both giggled.
I tried to smell for gas fumes in the bus to see if this explained the behaviour of those I was encountering. But I could detect no such smell.
I looked to the back of the bus and saw an indiscript bunch of people except for a teenager who was rocking out to his own music and smiling in an altered kind of way.
When the bus pulled into the cultural centre, I decided enough was enough and disembarked. It meant a small walk into town but it was just too much weirdness for me. I noticed a few other passengers from the back of the bus took the same action. Truly, I am still scratching my head about that one.
I figured the bus trip was a one off incident but that same afternoon, I had three separate, random people approach me in the main shopping area and tell me how good my hair looked. I have very closely shaved hair which is rarely worthy of comment.
I ordered a coffee and the guy serving me noticed the bottle of water in my hands was near empty. He offered to fill it up for me. It was a really nice gesture which I accepted, but again, weird.
I then watched an elderly man order what was clearly his first taste of Indian food as he was totally flummoxed when ordering and settled on “just something which isn’t too spicy”. About half an hour later I saw the same man trying to order an ice cream. He seemed overwhelmed by the choices on offer and opened his wallet where he slowly stroked a yellowing and ageing photo of an old woman. He mouthed something to the face in his wallet and this seemed to fortify him enough to enable him to proceed with his ice cream order. I decided the photo was of his wife who I assume was dead. I could be completely wrong but this man seemed so intent on trying new things; I dunno, there was just something about his manner, a sadness which was striking.
It was a strange afternoon all round. I don’t understand it, in the same way I fail to understand much of what has happened to me in the last year. But I am glad that the weirdness was generally good and largely amusing. And I am glad I can still be surprised by life.