Are you looking forward to Christmas? By Penelope Jackson

I feel like a stranger on the bus. Getting on at the airport, the bus makes the long trip into the city, picking up workers, university students, school children, and Janice.

Janice was seated near the front of the bus and as each person got onto the bus and made their way past the driver, looking for a seat, Janice made eye contact with them. And before they could look away, not wanting to engage, she sprang her question at them.

“Are you looking forward to Christmas?”

One bloke who sat nearby, said he wasn’t really looking forward to Christmas. Being old meant he was kind of done with Christmas. But he was pleasant enough to Janice and I got a feeling they probably recognised each other. Maybe they travelled the same route regularly.

A young woman, possibly in her early twenties, said yes, she was looking forward to Christmas and made a hasty retreat to the back of the bus.

As the bus took on more passengers, it was inevitable that someone would take the empty seat next to Janice. Quick as a flash Janice introduced herself (that’s how I know her name) and asked the frumpy-looking woman, who if I had to make a guess was probably in her early seventies, if she was looking forward to Christmas.

“Well actually, no I’m not! I used to, until my son married a mad woman and she’s been particularly nasty to me and so I can’t be bothered anymore. Bugger them. I’d rather stay at home and watch a movie than pretend to enjoy myself at their place.”

I think Janice was quite taken aback because she tried a different angle.

“Have you done your Christmas shopping?” she asked the woman.

“No! And I’ve told everyone to save their money. I don’t need anything and as sure as eggs I can’t be bothered going to some shopping mall to spend my pension money on them. It’s not my idea of fun at all.”

Janice looked out of the window.

The next time the bus stopped, a bloke, who I soon realised was unwashed, for his aroma was particularly stale, made his way down between the rows of seats. Janice caught his eye.

“Hi, are you looking forward to Christmas?”

“Spose so, should be a good piss up,” and kept moving down the aisle.

Janice’s neighbour piped up again,

“And it’s only October. I hate the way the shops start to fill with Christmas stuff so early. My god, it feels like it gets earlier every year.”

I’m sensing that Janice has never had anyone respond so fully to her question. For the most part, people just said yes, they’re looking forward to Christmas and then scurry on past her. Janice’s probing, to her mind, possibly assumes that they keep on moving down the aisle not because they don’t want to talk but that she’s reminded them to do some Christmas planning and what better opportunity than when you’re on a bus.  

It’s intriguing how the passengers engage with Janice. A psychologist would have a field day. I think Janice must be a regular on this particular bus route for at least two passengers greet her with familiarity as they find their seats.

The schoolgirls pushing and shoving each other, heading to one of the private schools in the city, giggled rudely pretending Janice’s question wasn’t directed at them.

Others, business-like people, who wore ear pods, didn’t hear Janice’s question. Oblivious to her and her interest in them, they ignored her. One was conducting some kind of meeting out loud so that everyone in the bus could hear what was going to happen that morning at the staff meeting in the shop he managed.

The woman seated next to Janice was on a roll.

“You know, Christmas is a commercial have. All those shops just want to fleece money out of people who can’t really afford it. It’s not about the real Christmas anymore. I mean, how many people on this bus will go to church at Christmas. Hmm. No one probably.”

Despite Janice hoping the bus would stop soon and someone new would get on board, it sped past two stops with no one flagging it down.

Close to the city centre, passengers began to get off and eventually, I’m sure to Janice’s relief, so too did her neighbour. Janice wished her a nice day and quickly tried to engage the woman sitting across the aisle in conversation. But much to Janice’s disappointment the woman explained her religion didn’t celebrate Christmas. The woman returned to reading her book. At least she wasn’t rude to Janice.

So far, I’d managed to avoid Janice’s question. With my head bowed down I’d switched between reading messages and checking the bus route on my phone, and keeping tuned into Janice’s conversation.. She had a set question and barring the odd exception, she got stock answers. This made her happy. It was a way of engaging with lots of people and passing the time on the bus trip.

I pushed the buzzer, signalling to the driver that I wanted to get off at the next stop. As the bus began to slow down, I turned around to Janice. Making eye contact, I asked in a kindly voice,

“Are you looking forward to Christmas?”

Janice’s face lit up. It was if no one had ever asked her this, or not in a very long time. With a smile as wide as her face she spoke in a hurried way without pause.

“Yes, I love Christmas so much, thank you for asking me. We’ll have a big tree and lots of pavlova, it’s my most favourite day of the whole year.”

And with that, the bus came to a halt, making it my time to alight and go about my day, no longer a stranger on the airport bus.

Penelope Jackson.

Image by makotochocho from Pixabay – Interior of a bus with a few passengers