The view from the other side

The Tipp man was displaced, confused, seeking mercy. It was a time when the bus station in Parnell Place still required potential travellers to pack a strong grasp of chaos theory, just to have half a chance.

In a nod to the existence of a ‘system’, lane numbers were painted on the ground where, by a stroke of unforeseen misfortune, they would be obscured by parked buses. In exceptional cases, maybe even by a bus notionally assigned to that lane.

The Tipp man climbed the steps, stuck in his head and posed the fair question: “Where’s this bus going?”