![]() ![]() The bus driver finally switched on the machine, and Pointy Hair and the others quickly tagged off. ‘AW LOOK,’ she thundered at Pointy Hair, ‘NOW EVERYONE’S GETTING OUT!’ Now they were rushing the doors with relieved looks on their faces. Meanwhile, two other passengers stood up, the ones who were also on the wrong bus but had chosen to bear it with dignity. He asked, ‘Could you please turn your machine on?’ He tried to swipe his Go Card to tag off, but the machine hadn’t registered the stop. The young man was much calmer now that the bus had stopped. ![]() She leaned on the steering wheel and glared at Pointy Hair. The bus driver – a tough, middle-aged woman with beefy arms and an operatic voice – yanked the bus vindictively over to the kerb. Now Pointy Hair had realised this, and was approaching the bus driver.Īs the bus cruised through the last set of traffic lights before the motorway entrance, there was a quiet conversation. But this bus didn’t stop in the city – it passed right through on its way to the eastern suburbs. The sound belonged to a smartly dressed young man with far too much gel in his hair, who evidently wanted to disembark in the city. Now the sound had gotten out of its seat and was moving towards the front of the bus, becoming more audible. Once you got past the fact that someone to your left was grunting ‘Hup!’ over every third word the lecturer said, it became nothing more than lecture hall ambience. No worries – we had someone with Tourette’s in one of my lectures at uni. I supposed we had a sufferer of Tourette’s Syndrome on board. The sound was getting more insistent as we swung past the Queen Street Mall bus stop and up towards daylight. It was a faint, staccato sound, repeating every few seconds. ![]() As we plunged beneath the city, into the subterranean busway, I started to hear a small noise coming from the back. It was warm inside the bus, so I was content. It was a cold, sunny day in Brisbane today – the type that’s beautiful with a cruel, glittering kind of beauty. The bus was trundling toward the city, and I was sitting down the front, enjoying my window seat. In fact, I am so emotionally intelligent – so very much so – that I knew exactly how to handle an uncomfortable situation on the bus today. I am definitely more emotionally intelligent than my boyfriend (who also took the test) – and I will make sure he never forgets it. I am, in fact, probably more emotionally intelligent than you. There’s a test you can take to determine this, and my Emotional Intelligence Quotient scored pretty high. I have a high level of emotional intelligence. I discovered something interesting on the weekend. ![]()
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