Fresh morning air rushes through invisible cracks in my window. I squirm in my seat, trying to position myself to receive the least amount of cold wind. The lack of caffeine in my blood is causing a throbbing pain to grow inside my head and my legs are cramped into a shape only suitable for contortion artists.
Hidden behind dark sunglasses, my sleep deprived eyes roam across the countryside as it whizzes by. Uninspiring empty fields dotted only with the occasional cow fill my vision. The sky is a dull grey in the murky morning light. I can hardly decide whether the barren exterior environment or the drab interior of the bus are more appealing. They are both depressing me.
I need coffee and maybe a big shady tree to lie down beneath and nap a while. That isn’t likely to happen. Strict schedule. No drinking coffee on the bus.
The appearance of twisted dead trees amongst the cows begins to rouse my foggy mind into action. Great grey trunks forcing their way through the earth, great forked crab claws snapping at the sky. Exhausted arms surrendering to the power of the wind. Relinquishing their place in the sky.
“Coffee stop: ten minutes!”
I feel my mouth water, my pupils dilate, my pulse quicken at the words.
Spurred on by the promise of caffeine I force myself to participate in the world, I begin to see further than the empty field and dead trees. I notice that the sun has begun to peep over the scarp, burning the horizon with a golden strip of fire. I see that birds have already begun to gather on the roadside. Scavengers. Waiting for a car to hit a careless animal so they can pick the bones clean. I notice the country quirks. The sign for G-Spot ice-cream, ‘The sexiest ice-cream in the South West’. The giggle that ripples through the bus as we pass it. The sculpture of the emu stretching its neck through the wreck of a car. The clouds clearing to reveal dappled patches of blue.
The smell of the fresh earth seeping through the invisible cracks in the window. The absence of traffic.
We pull up in the carpark. Disembark. Order our tonics. A coffee is plonked down in front of me and I gulp it down eagerly. The headache begins to subside. I stare out across the café as the group chatters happily. Where are you from? What do you do?
The journey has just begun and already I long for some time to myself. For more sleep. For less people. Don’t ask what I do. Don’t ask where I’m from.
As I slurp up the last of my coffee I relax my eyebrows, previously scrunched into a menacing scowl to dissuade my travelling companies from getting close. I mentally slap myself. You’re here. No work. All play! Don’t waste it. Smile, you idiot.
The world is ok.
