2003-02-23 8:15 pm
The Fedora and the Russian
On the night bus at 4.30am I watch two black guys arguing loudly. One is bald with a big, laughing face. The other has his back to me. He is wearing a fedora. The bald one seems to be winning the argument.
"Never!" he cries, shaking his head, laughing enthusiastically. "Never! Never!"
At Victoria Station they stand up to get off the bus. The bald one produces an enormous fur hat which is much too large for him and pulls it down over his eyes. Then they hurry down the stairs and I see them step out onto the pavement.
But something is wrong. The bald one pats his pockets, then rummages in his bag. He looks up at the window. I am the only one left in the bus, but I realise the problem and dart forwards. His leather gloves are on the seat. The bus begins to pull away, so I open the window and throw them down to him. He catches them, and laughs again. I press my hand up against the window as the bus drives off, and they stand there, the two of them, waving their hats at me - the fedora, and the Russian.
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