The bus adventures to and from Hamrun Chocolate Festival
The first rule of group travel is that you should never trust a group of people to get you where you want to go. You need to put someone in charge and then follow that person. Yes, it sucks to be the leader, especially if you get it wrong, but it is better than having to get out of the bus two stops late because no one knew where they were going. Out of 30 people on the bus, no one, including me, knew the right stop until it was too late, and no one asked the bus driver.
The real problem was that Bernhard and I checked the bus schedule and decided to take the 42, but when the 55 pulled up right to or doorstep, and everyone else was getting on, we threw our plan out the window. I didn’t look at the map, so I didn’t really know what stop we were supposed to get out at, and the bus leaderboard wasn’t working.
No one learns the lesson the first time around, so after waiting for an hour for a bus, we all finally got on the one headed to Attard, which if you get to the San Anton gardens, isn’t far from the University Residence. Once again, the group was not on the same page.
I would have asked the driver to let us know when to get out, but one of the women who got on the bus asked if it was going to Valletta. This irritated the driver to no end because it was clear that he was going to Rabat – it says it on the outside of the bus – so he grumpily told her that she needed to go to the road to catch a bus to Valletta because the buses were not running ion this street this evening (because of the chocolate festival).
The rest of us get on the bus, and the two leaders of the group are dealing with uncertainty and a broken leaderboard, but at least they have the Internet. We get to the Anton stop. I mention we should get out. The bus moves on to the next stop.
Of course, the reality of all these bus trials is that I got to learn the names of some cool people. We got to chat and enjoy each other’s stories, and I suppose that something to complain about brings people closer together. We even got a group hug in. Sometimes, groupthink can lead to individual opportunity. (I bet there is some investing philosophy out there that says the same thing, but at this point in time, I was investing in people and happiness.)
The real problem was that Bernhard and I checked the bus schedule and decided to take the 42, but when the 55 pulled up right to or doorstep, and everyone else was getting on, we threw our plan out the window. I didn’t look at the map, so I didn’t really know what stop we were supposed to get out at, and the bus leaderboard wasn’t working.
No one learns the lesson the first time around, so after waiting for an hour for a bus, we all finally got on the one headed to Attard, which if you get to the San Anton gardens, isn’t far from the University Residence. Once again, the group was not on the same page.
I would have asked the driver to let us know when to get out, but one of the women who got on the bus asked if it was going to Valletta. This irritated the driver to no end because it was clear that he was going to Rabat – it says it on the outside of the bus – so he grumpily told her that she needed to go to the road to catch a bus to Valletta because the buses were not running ion this street this evening (because of the chocolate festival).
The rest of us get on the bus, and the two leaders of the group are dealing with uncertainty and a broken leaderboard, but at least they have the Internet. We get to the Anton stop. I mention we should get out. The bus moves on to the next stop.
Of course, the reality of all these bus trials is that I got to learn the names of some cool people. We got to chat and enjoy each other’s stories, and I suppose that something to complain about brings people closer together. We even got a group hug in. Sometimes, groupthink can lead to individual opportunity. (I bet there is some investing philosophy out there that says the same thing, but at this point in time, I was investing in people and happiness.)