It has been said that art is about living life more intensely. Who needs art when you’ve got Bus Éireann’s Route 22? Nothing compares to being at the bus stop in Ballaghaderreen as time approaches [say] 4.21pm and experiencing that “will it/won’t it?” intensity. Then, while peering down the street in hope that its red nose may appear, or pass by, or pass by on the other side, just pass through the town, or not appear at all.
There is the bonus of checking the bus journey in “real time” on your phone. You can trace its journey from west to east through Ballaghaderreen, continuing to Dublin, even as in your half hour at the stop it hasn’t appeared at all. No Booker Prize for fiction was ever more deserved than for that “real time” function.
Once a friend gave chase in his car and we caught the 22 in Frenchpark. The driver couldn’t explain his trick of passing through Ballaghaderreen without noticing people at the bus stop there, as though it was a way of life - which it has become.
One bypassed lady that day said it was the third time the 22 had not stopped there in a week. She missed a hospital appointment. I missed a meeting.
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And no one listens. No one answers phones at Bus Éireann in Ballina. I emailed a complaint to Transport for Ireland when one 22 failed to turn up, to be assured it had indeed turned up. I advised that they should be recommended for a job at the Trump White House.
Adding to the thrill of travelling west on route 22, there is the inevitability of being told at Busáras in Dublin that it is “delayed” (usually for up to 20 minutes). Once, I took it at its word and came back 20 minutes later to be told by staff it had gone and not to take heed of the noticeboard, as it was “always doing that”.
On top of which we are still told the westward 22 leaves daily at 12.55pm, or 3.55pm. It never does. Nor, travelling east, is it ever in Ballaghaderreen at 10.23am, 1.21pm or 4.21pm. Why not 10.20am, 1.20pm or 4.20pm, if it turns up at all?
Fiction, from Latin fictionem for “that which is invented”.
