If the 29 bus isn't on time, London just stops working!

Last night we had our Thanksgiving blowout for the students at our university, held at Byng Place, our lovely residence hall. The food, despite being arrayed in gigantic industrial sized tin foil serving trays, was actually really quite good. So, kudos to everyone out here who pitched in to make it such a nice evening. Which, of course, does not include me, since I'm the laziest man in America. Actually, I sort of feel bad about not helping out, but I was actually spending most of the day doing some homework, so at least I wasn't just goofing off all day and shirking work. Or so I claim.

Anyway, because it was a free dinner involving students, there is naturally going to be free booze as well, which I gave many thanks for. After a glass of wine and several beers, the suggestion comes up that go out and sample the finest nightlife London has to offer down at Leicester Square. So a group of about 12 people all shuffle out of Byng and down to the nearest bus stop to catch the good old bus 29 down to Leicester. Now, there are a few things one needs to know about transport in London. First of all, the tube system is not actually designed for human transit, but rather is a long-range psychological test devised to test the upper limits of human misery. But that has nothing to do with this story. The second thing about London Transit is that if you want to ride the bus, you need to either buy your ticket ahead of time at a machine or else have your Oyster Card handy, which you load money on to in advance.

As the bus stops for us, those of us with Oyster cards swipe our cards and hop on the bus. But here's the thing: apparently bus 29 is the single most vital cog in the mammoth machine that keeps London up and running. Only about half of the people who were with us actually made it onto the bus. One guy didn't have exact change for the ticket at the machine outside and asks if he can buy a ticket from the driver. Being the kindly old English chap that he is, he starts to yell, "that's not my problem!" Thus enraged he proceeds to slam the door in the fact of everyone else in line behind him, meaning we got to enjoy a view out the window of about six shocked expressions as the bus driver took off without them. And for the rest of the ride the bus driver is sort of yelling to nobody in particular from his little enclosed cubicle bus driver seat, completely scaring the rest of us as he swerved down the rode, and occasionally veered into oncoming lanes of traffic while he passed cars parked on the side of the road. Wow.

So all this got me to thinking: what in the bloody hell could be so vital that the bus 29 couldn't wait ten more seconds for everyone to get on board? So I did a quick search of the route map to determine what the explanation could be. I started my research at the end of the route, which was just a few stops past where we got off. I didn't see anything notable in that direction, nothing at all that would indicate a pressing need to ge there in time. No hospitals, no airports, nothing. So I started going reverse up the line on the map, and that is when I hit upon it: Holloway Prison. Yup, this bus made a stop at the local prison. Now it all made sense. You remember that Sandra Bullock/Keanu Reeves movie "Speed"? Well, instead of that, I was stuck in a real-life version called "Time." As near as I can determine, the bus driver was actually under the influence of some breakout prisoners from Holloway, who ordered him to keep the bus on schedule, or else they would blow it up. "Here's the thing bus man, if this bus doesn't make it to Trafalgar Square by 9:47 pm, a bomb on the bus will blow up. What do you do, hotshot? WHAT DO YOU DO!!" So, to all you prisoners at Holloway prison who made the bus driver leave without the rest of us, here's a hearty "piss off." Oh, and thanks for not blowing up the bus.