Maybe you’re familiar with the Chinese proverb about ‘Could be a good thing, could be a bad thing’
There was once an old Chinese farmer who owned a small piece of land far off in the countryside on which he worked the land and spent his days with his wife and son. He owned only a single horse, which he used to help work the fields and bring in the harvest. One day, the horse ran away.
Upon relaying the news of his loss the other countryside dwellers, they all exclaimed, “What bad luck. What a terrible thing to happen.”
To which the old farmer replied, “Could be a good thing, could be a bad thing.”
A week later, the horse wandered back to the farm, but with 5 wild horses it had met in the forest travelling with him.
Upon relaying the news of this unexpected acquisition to the countryside dwellers, they all exclaimed, “What wonderful luck! Not a better thing could happen to a man!”
To which the old farmer replied, “Could be a good thing, could be a bad thing.”
Later that week, he 18-year-old son was spending the afternoon breaking the wild horses when one of them threw him off its back and severely broke the son’s leg.
Upon relaying the news of this to the countryside dwellers, they all exclaimed, “What bad luck!! I knew those wild beasts were no good!!!”
To which the old farmer replied, “Could be a good thing, could be a bad thing.”
As the son convalesced, his broken bones slowly mending themselves back together, a battalion of troops from the Red Army came sweeping through the land on the way to a bloody war, picking up any able-bodied young man to fight with them.
Of course, they passed by the young farmer’s son with the recently snapped femur.
And, of course, upon relaying this news to the countryside dwellers, they all exclaimed, “Jumping Jehoshaphat! What luck!!!”
To which the old farmer replied, “Could be a good thing, …”
You get the idea. Well, working of Friday and Saturday at my bar = bad thing…
It’s not that it’s an incredibly busy night, maybe a few handfuls more stumbling in and out at any given moment. It’s the fact that we close early that makes it bad. I know; a terrible, terrible thing. The reason being, is, unlike New York City, Madrid’s monolithic subway system doesn’t run 24/7. So if you have plans on getting home between 1:30AM and 6:00AM, you’re on your own.
But they do have a series of infrequent night buses that will take you more or less where you need to be. I cannot stress more heavily on the, “more or less.”
Why? Because night buses also = bad thing.
The closest this bus gets to my apartment is on the elbow of the route that has a 15 minute long walk to either of the closest stops. So, on my first weekend at the job, when I had my first two experiences on the night bus, I found myself walking an additional 15-20 minutes after getting off the bus on which I had spent an initial 20 minutes. 40 minutes isn’t that bad a commute, but when you’ve been running around a bar for the past 8 hours, you don’t want a short hike between you and your bed.
Therefore, on this past Friday night, I wasn’t too thrilled about taking the night bus home after work.
So, I’m sitting at the bus stop. It’s 5:15AM. I wait awhile… The bus comes… I get on – it’s me, an older guy probably going to work, and two groups of mid-twenties Spanish guys coming home from a night out.
I’m sitting there, keeping to myself and listening to my music, when something struck me as odd. Somewhere around the time when the bus neglected to take a right turn that I knew went up to the next stop on the line.
Something struck the rest of the bus as odd when he started to go in the absolute opposite direction of the direction we should be more or less going. The driver pulled over, realizing he’d gone way off and then pulled a flawless 7 point turn across a 5 lane one way street that would have been the shortest possible route back to where we should go if it weren’t for all of the headlights of the waiting cars that spanned the road, whose operators were enjoying the front row spectacle of something they’d surely be talking about around the coffee machine come Monday morning.
After a few jeers from the back row, the bus driver started a dazzling 15 point turn back the way we came as one of the groups of guys headed up to direct this guy back on course, the others staying behind to taunt the driver in sing song.
The two guys up front assuringly yet imperatively ordered the bus driver to turn here and turn there, looking back and snickering at their friends as the bus driver sullied forth. At one point we found ourselves so off course that the older gentleman passenger went up to take control of the situation, confident that the young whippersnappers were directing the bus to drop them off in front of their apartment.
They insisted that they were on course and that although the older man’s idea of ‘getting there’ was good, theirs was actually faster. After they cleared up the confusion and making peace, a silence passed over the bus as the bus waited patiently at a red light.
I looked over to see the elbow of route that nuzzled itself so close to my apartment. So, I popped myself up front, politely asked if he wouldn’t mind letting me off here and bustled off the bus thanking him kindly; a spring in my step as I hopped down off the bus’s step.
3 minutes later found myself safe and sound at home.
Conclusion: Working on a Friday and taking the bus driven by the over tired and highly confused bus driver = a good thing.
