On a sweaty summery evening, I found myself waiting at a bus stop for a bus that would bring me into Waterford City for a bit of fun and entertainment.
Getting a bus in Tramore during a heatwave is a hairy business. Hordes of people descend on the buses like flies, slowing their progress through the town.
The Arrival of Wheelwoman
When a bus pulled up, I was delighted to discover that the doors of the bus were right in front of me. Victory is mine, I thought, until….
… I saw a woman in a wheelchair, rising like a mirage in the shimmering heat.
There was another woman with her. Must be her carer, I thought.
'Sorry, lads,' smiled the woman in the wheelchair, henceforth to bee known as Wheelwoman. 'I'm after gazumping ye.'
Given my own wonky-eyed history, I wasn't about to begrudge her a little victory.
'Don't worry about it,' I said, smiling back.
As I climbed the bus, I passed Wheelwoman and her 'carer' henceforth to be known as Wingwoman. And I realised I knew both of them, from the highroads and by-roads of Tramore.
Both women were very well dressed.
Photo Description: Here’s a pic of a tanned, blonde woman in a wheelchair, with trees behind her.
'What's the occasion?' I asked them.
Turned out they were both on their way to see the comedy show that I was going to. And that they were friends from way back, to the days when they negotiated nappies and night feeds.
The Right Bus Stop
Just before we set off, the bus driver approached the wheelchair area.
'What stop are you getting out at?'
Wheelwoman gave her stop. It was also my stop. I was delighted to be saved the 'short cut' the bus drivers take when the buses are busy. Wheels come with benefits.
We spent the journey into town talking about skiing, France and the power of good comedy. Soon enough we were approaching our stop.
'Isn't it grand that you don't have to wheel along miles of bad footpath,' I said to Wheelwoman.
'I actually tried to call the bus driver back to tell him I was happy to stop where he wanted to,' said Wheelwoman.
None of us had actually heard her. Wheelwoman is soft spoken. She doesn't like to make a fuss.
But Wheelwoman is soft-spoken, so none of us heard her, including the driver, when she said.
After the Bus Journey
We got out at our lovely, level, convenient stop and wished each other a good evening. A couple of days later, I met a friend and told her about my bus companions.
'Oh, isn't she very good to take (Wheelwoman) out,' my friend said.
'Well, they seemed to be good friends too,' I pointed out. 'And she's a bit of a laugh.'
But I couldn't throw stones, given my initial assumption that Wingwoman was her carer. Assumptions come far too easily. And Wheelwoman challenges these assumptions by living her life, an act of quiet revolution.
If you'd like to give out to me for making careless assumptions, fire away. You can email me on derbhile@writewordseditorial.ie or phone 0876959799.