If you’re the woman who gives her handbag the window seat or the man who vapes in the back seat, you’re part of the problem.

Because my parents wanted to instil in me a sense of confidence and independence, and also because my parents had to work so I could clumsily pirouette away their money at twice-weekly ballet classes, I began taking the bus at a young age. 

I had my regular stops, routes, and drivers. I knew that Mum or Dad would meet me at one end or the other. I also knew that I had to press the button immediately after the house with the overgrown yard and before anyone else could sneak in first, because oh how I loved to press that button.

While I couldn’t articulate why at the time, I realise now that button-pressing made me feel important and in control. I may not have been able to level-up my arabesque to third, but I could stop an entire vehicle with my right index finger. Had anyone ever been so powerful?

Many people, of course, are powerful enough to successfully ride the 32x. But if you believe, like I do, that with great power comes great responsibility, then a heap of these people should have been stripped of their Public Transport User Licences.

If you don’t know who I’m talking about – the woman who gives her handbag the window seat, the man who sits in the back of the bus and vapes – then maybe you’re part of the problem. And so, for them, for you, for us all, here is a guide to politely catching the bus. 

Waiting for the bus

If there’s anything to really make you question your life choices, it’s waiting for a bus in the rain. How did I get here? you wonder, and also, Can a stop really be a stop if it’s just a pole with a timetable nailed to it? 

In these circumstances – with the southerly, and the angst, and the coat that turns out to be not rainproof but water-resistant – it’s natural to want to get out of your head and into the warm embrace of the double-decker, but hark. 

After politely flagging the bus down by waving your hand in a “hello” gesture, you should queue to get on it in roughly the same order as you arrived. Why? Because that’s how waiting works. 

Also, if you arrive last but push your way to the front of the queue you send the message that you’re more important than everyone else, and friend: we are all equally unimportant here.

There are, as every language-learner knows, exceptions to the rule, and sometimes you have to  give priority to folks that need it. This could include the elderly, disabled, people travelling with small children, or people having a really bad hair day.

While it’s hard to hide an infant or a mini-fringe, remember that not all need is visible. This means you have to set aside your trust issues and assume that, if they board ahead of you, your fellow passengers aren’t taking you for a ride. In return you must pledge not to take them for a ride, because that is why we have trust issues. And mini-fringes. 

Riding the bus

I’ve often heard that athletes injure themselves on the home stretch because, close to the finish line, they let their guard down. I don’t do ballet anymore so I’m not sure if that’s true. What is true, though, is that even while celebrating the arrival of your bus, you must remain conscious of the environment and people around you, beginning with the driver.

Greet your driver as you get on. “Kia ora” and “Hello” work nicely, as do “Morning,” “Afternoon,” or “Evening.” What does not work nicely is verbal or physical assault. If you feel you must horrifically attack either your driver or fellow passengers, then you need help beyond the offerings of this guide, and have problems bigger than finding a seat.

That is wonderful, though, isn’t it? To board a bus and discover that you have the pick of the bunch? That your favourite seat, the one on the second floor, front-left, is free? Well, life is not always wonderful. 

Sometimes people share your love for a particular seat and you have to make do with facing backwards beside someone who doesn’t want to sit next to you as much as you don’t want to sit next to them. Sometimes the bus is chocka and you have to stand under the armpit of the guy with the unwieldy beard, and next to the blue-haired lady who pushes past you every morning so she can claim a good spot to do her makeup. 

This totally sucks, especially because her cat-eye is pretty good. Still, take the high road. While it may be tempting, don’t call your friend and complain, or listen to Sandstorm loudly on repeat, or remove your N95 mask and eat an entire McDonalds hamburger, container of fries, and two hash browns. 

Like giving your purse a good view or puffing away on a cherry-pom Solo, these actions signal that you believe your comfort is more important than other people’s basic rights, including freedom from the torture that is Darude. And besides, except the hell you’d end up in for these crimes, nothing is forever. Should seats become available, you can nab one. Just make sure that if you do, there is no one around you who needs it more. And make sure that you continue assessing that’s the case, because you never know when someone with a mini-fringe will get on.

Getting off the bus

This is the moment you’ve been waiting for. You’ve arrived. You’ve done it. Well, actually, your driver has done it. Thank them. “Thank you.” But before that, is there a child on the bus who needs to press the button more than you do? Let them press it. The ultimate power is shared.

If you’re lucky, the path to the door will be clear. You can pack up belongings, get your little red Snapper Card all ready to go, and stride confidently into your destiny. Often, especially during the morning and evening commutes, the bus will be crowded, and disembarking in these conditions is challenging, especially when you missed the ballet class on agility. 

Rather than approaching the activity like a bumper car, say “excuse me,” and “thank you.” 

If someone else is trying to disembark, shift to accommodate them where possible. No one wants to have to long-jump over your legs, and if you’re using the bus to grind against strangers, well, you should instead be walking to therapy. 

Sometimes, you might panic under pressure and drop everything you’re carrying before you can make it outside. When this happens, nothing is kinder than when people help you retrieve the water bottle that has rolled three seats forward or say “driver, please hold the back door.” And then, once you’re out the back door with your now-dented water bottle, pause. 

Riding the bus shouldn’t be a political act, but as anyone with a vague understanding of the American Civil Rights movement knows, in an unjust world, all acts are political. It’s not your responsibility — it’s not even possible — to change the world alone. But it is your responsibility to be on the right side of history, and that can often be as simple as saying, with a smile, “after you.”