Cork Views: 'Hell is... other people on my bus commute'

Third level education is a challenge all in itself, but add being a mature student, and a mature student that doesn’t drive, to the mix and you get a recipe that could drive the strongest-willed person to crumble.

I always dreamt of being an artist as a child so when I got accepted to the Crawford College of Art and Design in 2024, I couldn’t believe my luck. I am no longer a child but a 42-year-old woman in my second year of a bachelor’s degree.

However, I’m concerned that I haven’t the heart to continue.

This isn’t due to any lack of faith in myself. College at times can be challenging and I can understand why Crawford is so prestigious, but it isn’t the hard work or dedication that concerns me

Rather, it is the public bus service that gets me from my home in East Cork to Parnell Place every morning.

I am very grateful that it does get me to college, without fail, but the other side of the bus service has my heart broken: Some of the members of the public with whom I am forced to share the transport.

I’m not sure if I have been extremely unlucky in my travels, but it can’t just be me, and I would be eternally grateful for those that may have their own horror stories to get in touch to console my woes!

I can’t complain too much about the whole situation though. I feel I could have a number one best seller just from the conversations I overhear that can be hilarious, but please let me explain some of my other experiences.

I have had to suffer various characters that added different challenges to my journey. There was the Smoker Dude, Talking Man, the Headphone Shaker and many more, that all lent a hand to make 2024/25 a college year that nearly broke me.

The Smoker Dude was a gentleman that smoked constantly in the queue and would often blow smoke in your face, depending on which way the wind blew.

Great attempts were made to change the times I arrived for the bus, and to buy a giant umbrella to avoid the smoke, all of which were unsuccessful.

The worst thing about it all was if he sat near you, as the smell of smoke on his clothes was off the charts. Often times I would stuff Vicks vapour rub up my nose to hide the smell - although one day I put on essential oil which was lemon-based and burnt the inside of my nose. Funny and not funny, all at the same time.

Talking Man was an elderly gentleman that would constantly talk to you for the whole bus journey, regardless of whether you engaged with him or not, and he could often be a little inappropriate.

Headphone Shaker was a young man that had a solo dance-off to himself every morning while listening to whatever it was that tickled his fancy on his headphones for the entire bus journey.

He often had a cold and runny nose and would run his nose up the length of his sleeve, then shake his mucous arm in dance movements all around anyone that was unlucky enough to sit next to him.

All the quirky people best avoided for a smooth and peaceful journey.

I hoped the summer break this year would clean the slate, so to speak.

Granted, this term the bus journeys haven’t been as bad as last year, but the commuting experience is definitely testing my patience.

Firstly, the traffic coming into Cork seems to have doubled. This has added an extra half hour onto my 90-minute journey every morning.

Add this to the 90-minute journey home, plus waiting in queues on either side with no place to sit, and it has literally made me want to cry.

But what has really got to me this year has been an apparent new trend on the buses… puking. Yes, puking.

One time, I had to sit on a bus for a whole 90 minutes after someone had just vomited on it. The smell was enough for me to consider surgical means to extract the smell from my nose, and I doubt I will ever forget it.

So, in light of this and so much more, I have ceased thinking about the bright future I could have as an artist in Cork after my graduation.

My thoughts have now been replaced with mindfulness techniques and constant debates concerning whether or not I, Sarah Roberts, have the ability to survive some of the people who inhabit our bus service and, more importantly, the possibility of being vomited on.