Yes, it’s Christmas time. And, as I rode the No. 24 on Christmas Eve, my fellow bus denizens were…well…smoking crack. Maybe you think that I should not be so cavalier. But, I think I’ve earned the right to be so since this is the second time that I’ve shared the bus with crack smoking citizens.

I don’t get it. Can they not wait until they get home? Maybe they don’t have a home, so they have to do it on the bus. Safer than the street, I suppose. They could get caught on the street. The Old Bill is on the street. On the bus, though, it’s safe. The bus driver doesn’t pull over and kick them out. At least he hasn’t on these two occasions. Maybe he doesn’t know there are people smoking crack upstairs. But, surely there are cameras. Maybe he can’t see them. So, is it up to me to go down and say “Uhh, excuse me, but there’s a guy smoking crack…” Yeah…right. I was beaten up for this sort of thing in school. Called a snitch. What would a crack smoker do to me if he found out that I interrupted his smoke?

What to do, what to do, what to do? I just sat it out. And, as so as not to offend the guy, I didn’t get up and move. I was inhaling the crack fumes. What happens when you inhale second hand crack smoke? They never do articles in the Guardian about that.

Merry Christmas.

Related posts:

1. Cracking
2. Suddenly, it’s Tuesday
3. No smoking in London
4. England to smell much nicer
5. Oxford Street