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True Irony is Public Transport

I long to live in a country or town where reliable public transport is a reality. As someone who (continually) fails her license tests, I would really love being able to step outside and hail a cab. Not even a “taxi”, which in South Africa has decidedly… different… connotations when compared to their counterparts almost anywhere else.

I would especially love reliable public transport at five in the afternoon, when I’ve worked almost an hour and a half overtime and I wait outside for the contracted guy, who takes staff in and out, and he’s late.

And not just late but late enough so that I leave, fed up and on foot, and I only come across him half way home and half an hour later, after my boyfriend has already phoned, concerned, and made arrangements for me to be picked up by our flatmate.

And I get into my flatmate’s car and he laughs and says, “As I left home to pick you up, the song And I Will Walk 500 Miles stayed playing.”

Somedays, I hate irony.


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