On a bus to Palmerston North (or Palmy as we locals call it). It’s Saturday morning
and Wellington is charmingly quiet; a whole city sleeping in. The bus driver just came on the
loudspeaker and said, “buckle up on the front seats, next bathroom break is in Palmerston,
bottles of water are okay but you need to finish any hot drinks, ice creams, or milk shakes.”
and what a lavish life it must be for whoever is on this bus at 9:30 am, bowl of ice cream in
their lap, all upset cos now they gotta rush eating it; all smuggling a malted milkshake in
their thermos, trying to sip it without leaving a mustache the driver can see.