It’s a good thing my in-ears insulate me from public ignorance.

If I didn’t have my in-ears to drown out the sound of public ignorance, I’d be insane by now.

For the past 11 weeks of semester, on Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays, I catch the 7:55am bus to Hobart. (As an aside, this entails a 6:30am wakeup, but that’s a story for another time.)

For the past 11 weeks of semester, on Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays, there is also one, but sometimes two, Japanese females who also catch the same bus, from the same bus stop that I do. (As an aside, there’s also another girl that catches the same bus, albeit from a different stop, but that’s for another time.)

I don’t know whether it was the introduction of Metro’s Green Cards that did it, the language barrier, or what, but for the past 11 weeks, catching the bus with these Japanese females is simply a chore.

After a couple of trips on the bus, you learn what your bus-fare is. It just happens. These Japanese females, however, seem to forget – EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

That wouldn’t be so bad if they just had the right change, or had a selection of change ready. But no, that would be too Australian for them – instead, every boarding of the bus is accompanied by the driver having a lenghty chat with them, on I-don’t-know-what, all because they can’t seem to catch the bus properly? They’ve talked for up to minutes at a time, and yes, this happens EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

Usually, this is alright. I can usually deal with this – I simply tune out, or board the bus before they do.

This morning, however, it was pouring with rain, I had already put away my umbrella, and yep, you guessed it, there they were, showing utter incompetence at catching the bus. If they had a GreenCard it’d be so much easier – just touch and go, but nooo. That’d be far too awkward. Instead, I, and all the passengers behind me, are forced to endure their blatant failure in catching the bus.


I don’t know. Maybe it’s the language barrier. Maybe it’s the fact that they have every possible denomination of coin in their purse – in both Japanese and Australian currencies, no doubt.

The real kick in the gut, though, comes from the fact that they have a companion. Some guy that goes to UTas – as far as I can tell, the Japanese females are exchange students and he’s part of the exchange family (or whatever it’s called). Usually he witnesses this exchange – never intefering, just observing.

You’d think that he would educate them on whatever they’re doing wrong. You’d think that he’d be able to tell them that you need to pay the driver this amount, or that you need to say this and then pay the driver.

You’d be wrong.

This post part of Blogtober 2009. A post a day isn’t too hard, right?

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