The devil's own form of transport

I'm on a bus for the second time this year, something of a record for me with my aversion to public transport in general and buses in particular. Our route wound through town for a very long time, down Renfield Street but then along Argyle Street and back UP Queen Street, stopping at every bus stop and traffic light before we finally headed south east. It is dark and I now have no idea where I am because the windows are all greasy and steamed up. It's crowded and the man behind me has his hands over the back of my seat and keeps touching my ponytail, I hope by accident. I don't know how I will know when to get off the bus as it lurches through the streets. At least no one is overtly drunk or vomiting so this is one of my more pleasant bus journeys.