The Written Podcast: New York (Part 1) – The Coach Before the Plane.

Any adventure to anywhere doesn’t start when you get to your destination, but when you’ve left the front door. After going to bed at 6PM Sunday evening to get at least some hours sleep before waking up at 11:30PM to catch the 1AM coach from Ipswich’s Cardinal Park, heading to the coach was when the nerves truly started to kick in, and the realisation of going to New York on my own kicked in properly. I know some people wouldn’t bother going to bed at all but sleep on the plane, and whilst that’s an understandable and makes sense, but considering I was on my own, the last thing I wanted to do was drag myself through the airport on my own, getting more and more tired and subsequently unable to think straight and make a mistake. What mistake I envisioned happening, I wasn’t sure, but at least I’ll be more of a functioning human being than if I hadn’t gone to bed to deal with that mistake if it were to happen.

Upon arriving at Cardinal Park waiting about 10 minutes for the coach to arrive, I struggled to believe that I was really going to do this. It dawned on me then that I was going to New York on my own. To the United States of America; on my own.

But before I could even step onto American soil, I had a coach and plane ride to take, and the coach was interesting. Being driven by someone who gave the impression that they don’t like mornings, and they’ve been doing the job long enough to know what to do, and that all he’s there to do is drive and then go home – he was professional and to the point by only given the right amount of information only, and nothing else. He also gave the impression of not liking anything that’s considered out of the ordinary, even if it is within the confines of what the company does. Let me explain:

We pulled into Colchester’s main bus station, where only one person was waiting. Curiously, he was without a bag. The coach’s next stop was Marks Tay, so I guessed it wasn’t out of the ordinary to take the coach as an ordinary bus. If you need to go where they are heading to pick up more people, it makes sense to take the coach instead of waiting for a bus. This presumed answer grew in strength when he stepped on board and an immediate wave of alcohol swam through the coach, indicating he’s been drinking. His motions were sluggish and his speech was slurred. The driver stopped at the stop and hopped off to see who was waiting for him to arrive, only to discover the lone drunk man was the only person waiting, and asked for how much it would be to get to a place. I didn’t hear the conversation so his destination would be revealed later as Heathrow was the final stop for the coach before heading back the way he came.

Upon learning about the man’s intention, and that he didn’t have a pre-paid for ticket with him, the driver had to reach and dig through a plastic container for the prices of a trip – not before muttering under his voice, “it’s just a load of grief”. All this driver wants to do is drive the coach, and if you don’t have a pre-paid ticket, he’ll secretly dislike you.

So the drunk person then proceeded to hunt around his person for the money, which he absolutely believed he had, put completely forgot where, so checked every single pocket extremely slowly due to him concentrating so hard on his movements. It’s only when you’re watching someone go through their pockets do you realise just how many I had on myself, because his clothes were practically made of pockets. It was remarkable how he found another unchecked pocket, and I was watching this like a hawk. Just when I thought he’d run out of pockets, he’ll find ten more inside his hoody. Five minutes later, the drunk man finally found his money and handed it to the coach driver who, at this point wasn’t hiding the fact he was disgruntled.

The rest of the coach trip was uneventful. With each passing stop the drunk man remained in his seat. Had he forgotten where he was meant to be getting off? The real curious aspect of this drunk man’s intention was when our next stop was Stansted Airport before heading straight down to Heathrow, and still this man remained in his seat. He only got up and out of the coach when we reached Stansted.

I chose a seat next to the window, but not at the front. Whilst my brain was pulling me to sit at the front of the coach, it did have a sign stating that if anyone was needing that chair, you’re obliged to move, and I didn’t want to move until reaching Heathrow, so I chose a seat a few rows back but of course next to the window. This didn’t give me any views of what was happening outside with people loading and unloading their bags, so it was impossible for me to know if the drunk man had or not had a bag, but it was confirmed to not have a bag when he simply stepped off the coach, turned to the right and proceeded towards the main terminal entrance.

The drunk man wasn’t drunk enough to forget his money, just forgot where he put it in a sea of pockets, so it’s understandable for him to remember his suitcase, so the fact that he didn’t get one out from the coach’s holding area meant he didn’t bring one, which raised a lot of questions. A drunk man, with no suitcase, about to walk into Stansted airport? What could go wrong? More importantly, where’s he going? More importantly still, what is he doing now? For a brief moment, I didn’t want to go to Heathrow, I wanted to follow that man. I wanted my questions answered. Alas the driver got back into the coach and reversed out of the drop off bay and headed to Heathrow airport. I guessed that moment of curiosity wasn’t strong enough to beat the impending excitement of going to New York City.

TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK…

Thanks for reading

Antony Hudson

(TonyHadNouns)