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Mongol Vs Conductor

We had taken our seats and were waiting for the bus to fill when the old Mongolian got on. Every craggy feature on his wizened old face had a story to tell - none more so than the large cleft in his left ear. Aimless, incoherent mutterings fell from his toothless mouth. Here was a character who had many a battle behind him. Bent double, he slowly lurched down the bus before listing heavily and landing with a bump in the corner of the back row.

But soon there was some discontent. There was one more person than seat, and our Mongol didn’t have a ticket. He was stubborn and stoic though and wasn’t about to give in.

And thus the problem had been defined. On one side of the negotiating table sat our battle-hardened Mongol, safely ensconced in his fortress at the back of the bus. On the other side stood the conductor, looking nervous in her duty.

A string of one-sided discussions occurred but the Mongol remained. Finally the bus pulled out of the bay and towards the exit of the station - it seemed that the he had won, that the opposition had surrendered.

Not so, the bus merely turned left out of the exit, left again, and re-entered the bus station before stopping just inside the entrance. The stalemate was still live.

The conductor, with a beautiful piece of sideways thinking, had mused a way to expose the Mongol’s weak underbelly in order to pull the carpet from under his apparently impenetrable position.

An announcement was made to the passengers that due to a fault we needed to change vehicles. Everyone dutifully filed off the bus. Alone, our Mongol was left with no choice but to follow and he duly shuffled down the aisle and gingerly stepped off.

This seriously weakened the Mongol’s strategic position; his flank had been exposed, but the battle was far from won. Protected by respect for his venerable age the Mongol could still easily push his way onto the next bus. The problem was simply back on neutral ground.

But then the bus driver engaged first gear and pressed some metal - the bus coughed but rose to challenge and squirted at speed across the open expanse of the station, stopping sharply just before the exit. The passengers reacted like a startled flock of pigeons - we took to our heels and followed at pace.

The Mongol was left trailing; his lumbering futile when faced with a younger and sprightlier opposition. By the time he caught up with the bus the last passenger had stepped back on and the door had wheezed closed. It seemed that the Mongol had been out-manoeuvred.

But a Mongol without pride and bravery is no Mongol at all, and in one last stand of defiance he moved in front of the bus, preventing it from leaving. In the end though his situation was hopeless, and dejected he was eventually coaxed aside.

The bus pulled away, short of one noble Mongol.

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