I Once Met A Happy Latvian

Feeling Grumpy... I mean grumpy. Nothing to write. And NOT because that bastard bus driver drove off just as I caught up and was in clear view of his rear vision mirror. Certainly not because he was fully two minutes early either. And I'm definitely not grumpy because he didn't exactly gun it, just kind of moved off at what I'd call A Very Fast Running Pace. Bastard.

And I'm not all glum and moody because Mr Bus Driver of the 301 from Circular Quay slowed down to a stop just a few metres on, causing me to walk quickly, then break into another run when I realised I might just have a chance of catching the damn thing, only to realise he had stopped for the traffic light, not poor, miserable, sweaty morose me.

And when I'd almost caught up to the door and the light changed and he gunned the beast into warp speed, I thought that was pretty funny.

And when I saw the next bus was not for half an hour? Oh ho ho.

I wandered over to the station and saw that the next train to Central was due out in two minutes. Perfect. Just enough time to poke the automatic ticket machine and I'd be home before the next 301 was even due.

Of course the train was early. Of course I could hear it pulling in already. Weirdly, though, it sounded like it was on the wrong platform. Still, both platforms go to Central so I took the flights of stairs like my version of a really fit person. Lots of steps. So many steps. And what should I find at the top of all those steps? That I had been hearing things because my train was waiting for me on the other platform... aaaaaha ha ha ha ha.

Down all the steps, across the middle bit (which there is probably a word for, like central concourse or something but I was in far too much of a hurry so it was just a very inconvenient middle bit) and up more fucking stairs.

You know what's coming, don't you. You just know that I'm going to stumble panting onto the platform just as the doors hiss closed and the train pulls out.

Well hah. You are wrong. I made it onto the train with seconds to spare. The right train and everything.

So in the end, my Indiana-like battle with public transport is not what has made me so grumpy. Don't feel like talking about it yet in case I am jumping the gun, but I will say I am well over getting excited about shit. Thought I'd give this optimism thing a go and I've been trying it for quite a while now, but fuck it. Over it.

And after that little digression or whatever it was, here's one of my stories out in the current issue of Drum. I'm not sure why it amused me to call the guy a happy Latvian but it did.

Of course that was last week when there were still things in the world that amused me... *sigh*