BRIGHTON, England — In Brighton, most people walk, ride a bike or take the bus system to get from place to place. Unlike America, there are far less cars that are seen on the skinny roads. With regards to our mode of transportation during this program, we use the bus system and walk where the buses can’t go.
On the second full day in Brighton, our instructor, Andy Coughlan, gave us the task of figuring out the lay of the land with a scavenger hunt. After taking five hours to go to five of the 14 stops on our own — but having a decent feel for where things were — we met back up with Andy to get lunch and finish the rest of the scavenger hunt.
Fast forward a few days, we’re coming home from a long, cold, windy day and we end up at Churchill Square — the center point for where we have been catching the bus back home. My photographic memory said to take the 1, 1A or 6, however, my classmate and friend, Abi, pulled out her phone, looked at the bus routes and told us we needed to take a different one. I was sure that we needed to be on the 1, 1A, or 6, but Abi had the bus app and how could that be wrong?
We go the course until the bus takes a turn that we were unfamiliar with. I quickly tell everyone we need to get off, because we’re not on the correct path anymore. We shuffle off the bus and walk to the next stop to catch the first 1, 1A or 6 bus we see. All the while, Abi has her head down and I have a smug look on my face. We made light of the situation by cracking jokes, and I never said “I told you so,” but it was definitely noted. We laughed it off once we got home and told Andy of our mini adventure. He implied we were idiots, but was proud of the fact we knew we were going the wrong way early on.
Monday morning we leave out for Lewes, a small town about 45 minutes from where we are staying. We catch two buses to make our way down and taking note of the bus numbers and the route along the way, knowing that we would be returning the next day without Andy to accompany us.
We wake up on Tuesday morning and get ready for the day with no urgency. The early risers of the group venture off first and take the trek to Lewes. I, on the other hand, am not an early riser and took my time getting out of bed — I got nicknamed Aurora by my family for a reason.
After a buttered scone and a glass of milk, Abi and I head out the door. We take the first bus down to Churchill Square and I see the 29 bus already loading at the next stop. I ask Abi if we needed to catch that one, hazily recalling Andy telling us to take the 29, possibly the 28. She tells me that’s not our bus and we stop at Starbucks for a quick coffee fix. Worst coffee I’ve ever tasted. Oh well, it was free — moving on.
We walk out of the shop and see the 48 bus loading and Abi hurriedly tells me that’s our bus. Something didn’t sit right with me though. I asked if she was sure and she urged me to come on. We hop on and find our seats at the front of the second deck. Watching the shops, streets and people fly by as we make our way down to Lewes, we end up in a neighborhood. Wait, this isn’t right. We didn’t see these houses yesterday, did we?
Abi and I exchange concerned glances and she pulls out her notes from yesterday. Written on the page in black ink says “take the 48 bus all the way.” We share a sigh of relief, but are left to wonder why we hadn’t seen these houses yesterday. We go through a few more stops until the bus comes to a halt and the engine turns off. I look over to see Abi’s face go pale. Why had they shut off the engine?
She walks down to the first deck and asked the bus driver if we were going to Lewes. In reply, he just laughed and said no, the 48 bus never goes to Lewes. Abi then asked how we get to our destination and he kindly gives us directions, telling us where we need to disembark, that we need to get on the 28, 29 or 29B and that we would be moving shortly. I knew 29 sounded like the right number.
We start to move again and the bumpy, old roads rattle the bus so much that my full cup of nasty iced coffee spills over. The lid pops off and coffee streams down the second deck of the bus floor as we travel uphill. Shoot, how am I going to fix this mess?! I scramble to find thick newspapers that other passengers have left in seats or on the floor, and throw them on top of the brown liquid that is now making its way down the stairs.
I sit back down in my seat with my heart racing while Abi is dying from laughter. She continuously reminds me, “it’s all about the adventure, not the destination.”
We exit the bus and the young driver tells me again to take the 28, 29 or 29B. We thank the driver, walk across the street and wait at the bus stop as the rain mists down on us. Two buses come and go as we wait longer until the glorious 29B pulls up to the stop. I could have sworn I heard the Hallelujah Chorus sung by choirs of angels. I hop on, scan my pass and ask the driver if this bus will take us to Lewes. He gives me a look that almost said, “duh,” but he nodded and said yes, so we climbed the stairs to our seats.
I am happy to inform you, we made it to Lewes and Abi will no longer be our navigator.
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