C'est moderne. 'Faut pas avoir peur.

Merci la RATP !

Fini le gaspillage de papier : adieu les bons vieux tickets T+, bonjour le passe Navigo Easy (bon, déjà, c'est quoi ce nom ?).

C'est moderne. C'est beau. C'est neuf (lavé avec Mir laine, ça poserait peut-être moins de problèmes).

Et ça marche bien... Sauf que, non, ça ne marche pas bien. Seule la dernière validation est enregistrée dans le passe et ça peut poser problème. Par exemple, parlons de quelqu'un (moi !) qui prend un premier bus le 3 mai (validation normale) et en prend un second trente minutes plus tard, donc parfaitement dans le temps imparti pour une correspondance avec le même ticket, sauf que la borne du second bus pense qu'elle est encore en AVRIL.

Résultat : le second bus me bouffe un ticket et si j'avais été contrôlée, j'aurais été en infraction, sauf que... ben non, j'avais fait ce qu'il fallait. Du coup, je me serais pris une prune ET aurais sans doute manqué mon train. Trop génial !

Avec un ticket papier, la borne du second bus aurait sonné, je serais allée voir le chauffeur qui aurait vu de ses yeux que j'avais pris le premier bus trente minutes plus tôt, il aurait déchiré mon ticket et basta. Histoire terminée.

Là, je me retrouve à débattre avec la RATP qui ne voit que la dernière validation parce que leur nouveau super passe est configuré comme ça et, désolée les gars, mais je n'ai pas les moyens de prendre un Navigo "normal" qui enregistre TOUS les derniers trajets effectués.

Du coup, j'espère que la médiatrice va comprendre et admettre mon problème.

Une petite cerise sur ce gros gâteau ???

Si le passe Navigo Easy rend l'âme tout seul, on vous le remplace... MAIS :

"Concernant les titres présents sur votre passe Navigo Easy qui ne fonctionne plus :

Les t+, OrlyBus et RoissyBus ne sont jamais remplacés"

Ben tiens ! T'achètes deux carnets de dix tickets, le passe passe l'arme à gauche et t'as que tes yeux pour pleurer ? Je ne sais pas comment vous appelez ça, mais chez moi, ça s'appelle de l'ARNAQUE.

Mais bon, c'est moderne. 'Faut pas avoir peur. (Même pas peur, juste envie de hurler)

Becoming a Misanthrope

Imagine the scene: a packed bus (I mean, really, really packed).

Imagine Biped A: young (that's irrelevant, but... maybe not so much down the tale), watching a film on its mobile, and not holding any handlebar (or anything) and therefore standing with its legs spread wide in order not to fall.

Imagine Biped B: much older than Biped A, and trying not to fall in spite of a firm grip on a handlebar.

Now, here's the drama: Biped B asks Biped A to not spread its legs so wide so Biped B can have a bit more space. Biped A ignores Biped B, who doesn't back down and tells Biped A that it's being quite selfish.

And here's the nuttiness: most of the bipeds around asked Biped B to shut the fuck up because it was bothering them (there's even one that asked Biped B to shut up, but who kept insisting that it didn't want to get involved - you got involved when you opened your mouth, miserable twat).

Have things come to this? A biped that wants to keep watching its mobile on a packed bus is the one who's protected by most of the other bipeds?

Well, this is where I wish to avoid such selfish village idiots and become a misanthrope.

And why didn't I say a thing? Simple. I'd have yelled at the selfish ones that they were wankers, and that life was too short for such pettiness - and since I currently have to face daily family drama these days, I may have been tempted to punctuate my statement with punches. 

Not being a fan of small spaces with bars, I read my book, planned this post, and was ready to pretend that I didn't speak the language if asked to join the plonkers.

Gosh. Bipeds are exhausting.

Bus Drivers - The Curate's Egg Edition

I've had a completely strange day going to and coming back from work today.

After my latest tube debacle (see prior post), I decided to wait for a bus to go to work today.

On my street, there's a stop with two different lines: the first takes me two streets away from work, and the other line has me taking another bus (and I've got two choices of lines when I change buses: one takes me near the stop of the first line from home, and the other stops at a ten-minute walk from work).

As I arrived at the stop where I take bus #2, the nicer bus had just left, but the other one was turning the street and driving my way...

And then... I met the nicest driver I've seen in a looooooooooooooooooooooooong time. I hopped on, and:

Me: Hello!

The Driver: Hello! Have a nice trip!

Me: (blink, pause) Thank you so much!

The Driver: You're very welcome. Have a great day!

Me: (properly flabbergasted) Thanks! You, too.

That man was kind with everybody. It's simple; by the time I reached my stop, I wanted to give him a hug.

Just before I left that nice bus, there was an odd noise below the bus. The nice driver stopped, went outside to check if we were losing bits of the vehicle (after joking with us and asking us to not steal his bus, leaving him stranded). He couldn't spot a thing, but he tried several manoeuvres, commenting on the results each time, and everything worked. We were all smiling.

I felt happy on my way to work, and I was smiling like a Cheshire-Cat high on something.

To head home, I walked to the stop where the direct bus takes me straight back to my street.

Different plot then...

The bus arrived, and I hopped on and said "Good evening!' to the driver who answered kindly, and then... the Hulk got out. Traffic was hellish, and he drove as fast as he could when there were no cars in front of him; he honked to make cars move (because he was in a hurry), and he even used his lights at a red light to make a car get out of his way (because honking hadn't worked).

Then, the icing on the cake...

At one stop, no one signalled him to board, so he stopped slightly ahead of the stop itself, and he waited for people to leave the bus. Since the front door wasn't open, an old lady and a bloke with a bike boarded by the rear door. The driver got up and barked at the bloke to validate his card; the bloke-with-bike barked back that he was coming to do it, and the driver shouted that bikes aren't allowed. The bloke with a bike left the bus... as did the old lady who then walked to the front door that the driver had opened for another lady.

The Lady: (just at the door) Are you going any farther or is this your last stop? [in her defence, that bus line is properly nutty when it comes to stopping mid-way or changing route, and since he wasn't moving in spite of the green light, she did have a point]

That driver (small "d" on purpose): (ignoring her)

The Old Lady: I don't understand what you said.

That driver: (ignoring her)

The Lady: (boarding the bus) Are you going to the terminus?

That driver: (closing the doors and leaving the old lady on the pavement. Talking to himself) I always get questions. All day long... [Clue: that's your job, Cabbage. You're being frigging paid for that]

The Lady: (catching the clue bus, and not in the mood to let that bully get away with it) Excuse me?

That driver: I'm getting questions all the time.

The Lady: I just wanted to know if you were stopping at that stop or driving on. That's all.

That driver: Well, I'm tired of getting that kind of questions all the time.

The Lady: (dripping sarcasm) Well, excuse me for disturbing you. (walking away)

That driver: Well, I'm going home now. I'm in a hurry.

The Lady: (not backing down) Well, I'm going home, too.

*blink*

I sincerely hope the lady will report that bully to the bus company because that biped needs to be reminded that no one died and made him king, in spite of what he seems to believe.

If I didn't like so much the time I spend reading when I'm on the bus, I'd be sorely tempted to walk to and back from work - because drivers like the first one are so rare it feels like a dream when we meet one... The other variety is much more common, alas.

What’s wrong with people?

This time, I had some fun with a bus.

I was waiting for my bus after work last night, and my stop isn’t far from a zebra crossing where I could see the bus I’d been expecting for a few minutes in the freezing cold.

When the light turned green for the bus, I got my tiny lil’ hand out of my warm sleeves and signalled the bus driver. Standard procedure.

Did the driver stop?

No.

Because he was reading something and he didn’t see me!

There was a man at the stop, who told me that complaining to the bus company was useless, but I want to hope that they’ll answer my e-mail.

I had to wait for another bus (did I say how bloody cold it was last night?) and I’m still furious.