A bus trip through the valley.

Monday evening. I had just come out of a class only to be greeted by a melting, dripping night. Putting up my umbrella I headed towards the bus stop, cursing myself for wearing sandals and hoping like hell that a bus wouldn't be too far off. I ran across the street to avoid being squashed by the headlights approaching from left and right, and came to a halt in front of the timetable outside the shelter. Damn it! It was 7.30pm and the next bus was at 8.05pm. I had missed the bus before by 10 minutes, because I was sucking up to my lecturer. I sat down on the semi-sheltered metal bench, avoiding the rain spattered side and took out my mobile to ring Mum so I could tell her what time I was going to reach home. Halfway through explaining my disgust for the Brisbane City Council bus system, I heard a bus down the road. A few seconds later a big yellow bus appeared like magic. I told Mum I was saved and said good bye. Juggling my backpack, umbrella and my bus pass I climbed aboard, noting that the LCD sign on the front of the bus said "NOT IN SERVICE".
I have wondered since if the driver changed it after I got on, or if it really was a magic bus come to save this damsel in distress. Two other passengers besides myself hopped on, gratefully escaping the downpour outside - the last one to get on was a girl who only just managed to grab the driver's attention before he pulled out. As we moved towards the main road the bus steered towards the right and turned up the wrong direction - away from the city. UMM - HELLO!?
Panic gripped me and I almost ran to the front of the bus to slap the driver and demand that he turn around. I eventually took control of my nerves and told myself firmly that all buses from uni eventually ended up in the city. Besides, a little detour might be fun. I just hoped that this bus wouldn't take me to Banyo before it brought me back! We passed through Herston, an inner city suburb, the streets were inky and I could just make out dimly lit dwellings that looked straight out of the seventies. The bell to stop rang brilliantly.
The bus stopped at a shelter lit by a yellowish light, and a young man sitting behind me ran out the back doors shouting "Thank you driver!". I thought that he maybe had the right idea to hop off before we ventured into unknown territory, such as the highway to Banyo... Feeling insecure once again, I grabbed my bag and umbrella and darted to the front of the bus to where the girl who almost missed the bus was sitting. "Excuse me, do you know if this bus goes to the city?"
I was confident she had some idea, because I saw her pop her head around the plastic screen earlier and ask the driver something. "Yes it does, but this is a strange route!"
"I know! I was a bit worried there for a second!"
I sat behind her silently as the bus finally turned onto a street I knew winded its way through the valley and to the city. I had always been told horrible stories about Fortitude Valley, ever since I was little. My parents had always warned me to stay away from there, as it was some kind of cesspool of sin. By and large, I pretty much stayed away from there, even though I was in the middle of an arts degree. I knew nothing of the cultural centre of Brisbane, despite a great number of art galleries and arty cafes being situated there and frequented by many of my uni friends. The bright colours of billboards, window dressings and Chinese restaurants greeted me warmly after the coldness of suburbia. Drunks and homeless people wandered aimlessly towards shelter beside business people strutting purposely toward their future. The bus slowed and then stopped to pick up a young girl in her school uniform who looked as if she was caught unprepared by the rain. I wondered what she was doing in the valley at 8'o clock at night, then scolded myself for sounding like my mother. The bus came to an intersection and I recognised "The Red Garter", a notorious strip club. One of my friends at high school (a private girls' school!) always joked that if she failed she could always strip at the Red Garter! We passed Chinatown and a restaurant that my ex-boyfriend had taken me to once. We passed an art gallery that was holding a Tracy Moffatt exhibition that I had sworn I was going to see. Mentally I made a note that I would come back here, now that I'd had a surprise mystery tour and I knew where the gallery was. Maybe it could be fun to get sucked into this cesspool for a while. Sure beats the suburbs.