Saturday evening I came to the realisation that bus users like packing together on the front half of the bus, leaving the back half almost empty... and I don't mean they don't stand in the corridor at the back of the bus: they even leave empty seats, preferring to travel like cattle at the front, bearing the stench of salami, perspiration or any punctual emission that could unexpectedly happen, while sighing and quietly complaining of the discomfort of public transportation.
Today I've suffered it again on bus 82 from Moncloa to the School of Telecommunication. People that got on the bus kept pushing, struggling to make their way through the crowds that didn't move an inch, especially those in the middle of the bus, behind whom a big expanse of nothingness could be seen that would remain unperturbed.
When a large group of people got off at the Chemistry stop, a woman walked towards the back of the bus and said, relieved, "¡Oy, madre mía, esto es la guerra!" (oh, my God, this is war). Yes, an everyday war that could instintively be eased with a little bit of common sense.
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