Where you wished a Peruvian bus driver would have had the opportunity to get an introduction to British education rules.

Time to cross another border. Which I did with red eyes and a heavy heart. Also with fury. I was feeling terrible and felt I couldn’t leave the place soon enough. Luckily, I had a bus at 7.00 am. As I had barely been sleeping, waking up early wasn’t too much of a problem for once. I had my breakfast and took a cab to the bus station. As I had my ticket already, I directly boarded the bus and took my seat. A few minutes before departing time, our tickets were being controlled. And there seemed to be a problem with mine. It didn’t have the right format, the one from the bus company. I tried to explain I got it from one of the travel agencies but the person in charge wasn’t very interested in the explanation.
– Take your backpack out of the trunk. You can’t travel in this bus.
Maybe buying a ticket from a random guy at the bus station hadn’t been the smartest idea of the month. But, on the other hand, it is quite commonplace and there had been no apparent reason not to trust the person who had approached me.
– At least give me five minutes to try to find that agency back, so that you can check.

He agreed but as I was stepping out of the bus and entering the bus station in search of the person I had been speaking to on the previous day, he was yelling behind my back.
– It’s your fault! You shouldn’t buy bus tickets just from anyone. Only ours are valid. Hurry up! Hurry up! We are leaving now! NOW!
Not pushy. The next thing. Not an assh*le. The next thing.

All the corridors inside the bus station looked pretty much the same to me and impossible to find   the one through which I had been following the ticket seller. So I had to declare myself defeated. As I was passing by the booth of the bus agency, the guy still pretty much insulting me, a lady came out running.
– Ernesto! She bought the ticket from Ernesto!
Thank God. I could have gotten another ticket and have left a few hours later. But right now, it was beyond my strength. I needed to escape. To move on.

The good news, however, didn’t have a relaxing effect on my harasser.
– Get back on the bus. Quick. We’re leaving.
Just before I got back in, my pride resurfaced.
– Is this how you treat your clients? An apology would be welcome.
Not another word came out of his otherwise very loud and annoying throat. That he had been treating me unfairly on top of very rudely seemed to be the least of his concerns. Could anyone ever be so disagreeable?

How to be polite.
How to be polite.

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