From Mr A. Brincat

Sunday 22 October and the time is 6.38pm. Bus No. 45 leaves Cirkewwa: destination Valletta. A youngish driver at the wheel and two younger ATP personnel in uniform, probably bus ticket inspectors, sit comfortably and relaxed on the first seat to the left behind the driver. Directly behind the driver sits another young person in civvies, probably an ATP official as well because he was sharing the mobile phone calls and the MP3 music with one of the two on the other side of the bus.

The bus leaves and a conversation starts between the driver and the two on his left. To keep eye contact the driver looks to his left and not the front. Two elderly ladies behind the young – probably teenagers – ATP personnel are worried and as the trip progresses they try to attract the driver attention to ask him to look in front; unfortunately for them and all the other passengers the driver is so deep in conversation that nothing else reaches him.

Now a few hundred metres into the trip and still deeply involved in the conversation, he reaches for a cigarette, lights it and draws on it releasing the smoke into the bus to the delight of the passengers. The bus gets to the top of Mellieha hill; it stops and one of the ATP personnel jumps off and runs to what seems like an office in the square; the driver pulls to the left and stops. The other person advises him to somewhat race the engine; a short time and the guy runs back to the bus with a plastic bag and some papers and now the journey can continue. The bus is now on top of the hill and as it continues on its way the red lights at the pedestrian crossings; to the driver this is a signal to keep going straight ahead while the oncoming traffic stops – probably to enjoy the sight! All along the way, buses travelling in the opposite direction are greeted by the driver with a cacophony of notes on his horn, which are more often than not reciprocated. In the meantime, the driver is drawing on his second cigarette and loud music is keeping all the passengers entertained even though at times they can’t hear themselves speak.

It takes long to get to the top of Xemxija hill due to a traffic jam but half way up the hill the driver throws the third cigarette butt out of the window and across the street. Occasionally, the hooting and flickering of headlights of oncoming buses is not enough so the drivers pull up close to each other to have a friendly chat.

Time is pressing and having passed Xemxija bay a pick-up overtakes the bus and stops immediately in front of it, close enough to prohibit the bus from continuing on its way. A member of the weaker/fairer sex gets out and boards the bus, where she is made most welcome by the staff. Then, further down the road a few metres away from the St Paul’s Bay police station, a car stops in front of the bus, which stops. A passenger gets out and makes his way to the driver; some small talk then back to the car and both vehicles continue on their way.

Past Burmarrad, the traffic is quite light with the bus overtaking on the inside lane and hooting to the other vehicles, which are too slow for this driver.

At the top of Constitution Street in Mosta, the driver makes a call on his mobile; he places his right elbow on the window, puts the phone to his right ear and starts a conversation which lasts to the bus stop near the Rotunda. To make sure passengers are well entertained, this is when a lady passenger is about to leave the bus; the strap of her bag catches the ticket machine and she springs back.

Near the Techno Park the driver pulls out his fourth cigarette and one of the ATP people asks him how many cigarettes he smokes a day, to which he replies “two” – probably packets, and most of them while driving in all likelihood.

Unfortunately, a couple of stops later I leave the bus so I cannot entertain you with what happened till the journey came to its end – if it did – in Valletta. However, this is enough for me to recommend a rise in the fare and this extra money used to install mini-bars on such buses so that these ATP personnel can help themselves to some well earned and deserved drinks and hors d’oeuvres for their excellent and probably, unique world wide, service.

Alfred Brincat

BIRKIRKARA.