How To Bend The Rules

‘Just made it, that was a bit of luck!’ I said to myself as I hopped on to the number 46. The bus sped off as I steadied myself and looked for my ticket.

After rummaging through my pockets for a few moments I found it.  

But then my luck started to run out. I staggered towards the machine to punch in my ticket, but the machine wasn’t working. No problem, I thought. I’ll speak to the driver. The bus was moving quite quickly by this time, so I made my way carefully to the front, lurching from one side to the other, and muttering apologies to the people I disturbed. And then I looked up and saw the sign

NON PARLARE AL CONDUCENTE - DO NOT SPEAK TO THE DRIVER

Oh no! I was in that place again. That place that no British person likes to be. I was stuck between two rules. Which one should I obey? Which one should I disobey?

I remained motionless, well almost motionless, as I swayed from one side of the bus to the other. The driver seemed to be determined to break some kind of land speed record. I was paralysed –Should I carry on my journey without paying, or should I interrupt the driver and distract him, as he hurtled along the road?

My solution was to stay where I was, my feet firmly planted near the exit door, stuck inside some kind of loop.

Speak to the driver – No – Punch your ticket – Can’t – Speak to the driver – No – Punch your ticket – Can’t - Speak to the driver – Can’t – Punch your ticket– No, Can’t, No, Can’t, No, No, NO!

There seemed to be no way out of this loop, no loophole. And so I remained that way until the bus arrived at my stop. At last the spell was broken, I was free, I could get out, I could get on with my life, I could   …   I could see the ticket inspectors.

I had some explaining to do, and so I did what I always do when I am embarrassed, I started to talk, and talk, and talk.

‘I’m sorry but you see, I went to punch the ticket as I always do, I always pay, I never get on the bus without my ticket, well maybe once I did but that’s because I got distracted because I bumped into an old friend, but anyway that’s not important right now, the machine you see, the machine wasn’t working, but I had my ticket as I said before, but I couldn’t punch it, so I er.. well  I went to speak to the driver but then I saw the sign that said I couldn’t and so I couldn’t punch my ticket or speak to the driver and so  I didn’t know what to do, and I was thinking about it when I sort of, well, you know, arrived.’

I could see the inspectors moving away from me, little by little, as I told them my story. They understood every word I said, but not one word made sense to them. I had been stuck between two rules, and I needed to share.  But all credit to them. They phoned the driver (wasn’t that against the rules?) and my story was verified. The machines weren’t working. I was innocent. I was free. I was in the clear. Phew!

We British have a thing about rules. We don’t like to break them – not unless we really have to. Maybe sometimes we have to learn to bend the rules just a little, when there is a danger that they might break us. However most of the time, we like rules. They make the world an easier place to live in. And when there aren’t any rules strange things can happen.

When I lived in England, my brother was a train driver, and he went from Southend-On-Sea to London and back every day. In his cabin there was a device that enabled you to see what was happening along the entire length of the train. Normally there was nothing much going on, just people reading the newspaper, children crying. You could hear the excited chatter of teenagers – the usual things. But one day was different. My brother looked into the device and saw a couple making love towards the back of the train.

This was strange enough, but what was even stranger was that the carriage was full, and nobody said anything. The passengers hid behind their newspapers as the train rolled on.

When the couple had finished their sweaty tussle, they sat back and lit up a cigarette. Before they could take their first puff, five or six people put down their papers and started to protest. ‘You can’t smoke in here,’ they said in unison. ‘Look, it says, "No smoking", can't you read?' and then they pointed to a sign nearby.

‘Rules are rules, after all.’