A reflection on Wednesday 06.11.02

A dirty grey cloud of billowing diesel smoke spiralled into the afternoon sky over Tottenham Court Road. I followed the curious crowds walking down the road towards the source of the flames. At the bus stop opposite Habitat, an empty No.73 bus was burning brightly in the dusky grey light. Red and orange flames poured from the top front windows and the drivers cabin, wrapping around the edges of the bus, turning the red paint black from the heat.

A street normally heaving with people, traffic and energy in the afternoon, felt surprising still. Attention was focused on the bus and billowing balls of smoke. Traffic was still moving, albeit slowly passed the bus. Drivers gazing at the spectacle. A crowd of 30 or more people encircled the bus on the street; people in the bus stop, policemen, pedestrians, shopkeepers, watching, waiting. People were still walking from all directions, down and up the street, across the road, towards the bus: faces raised, fascinated, shocked.

Despite the outer circle of stillness, there was an immense amount of activity in the bus; the intensity of the flames, the crackles and screeches of the fire, the whooshing of the water, sirens and yells from firemen. Two fire engines were parked around the bus, blocking a lane of traffic. Firemen in pairs released columns of water in the front windows of the bus

Looking in the top front windows I wondered how the fire started and how people managed to get off the bus. There were no ambulances so people had been very lucky to escape. It struck me that the best seats on the bus, the front ones, currently burning, were also the most dangerous in instances like this. They might provide the best view but are also the farthest away from the exit. I wondered how I might feel next time I rode the bus, which seats I might chose? I also looked at people still standing in the bus stop and wondered about their impressions of buses right now. How would they get home tonight? Would they just jump on the next 73, hail a cab or walk?

BBC News that night presented the bus fire with a dramatic birds eye view of the burning bus credited to an amateur video; an office worker no doubt with a great view and a camera. The article reported that the driver apparently had only minutes to evacuate the bus after he saw flames in his cab coming from the engine compartment. He and his passengers were shaken but not hurt. The bus however was completely destroyed, gutted, a burnt out shell.

The burning 73 was a spectacle. It sliced through the habitual journey of many people that Wednesday afternoon. It changed the sense of place by redefining the street. If as Urry says in Consuming Places - ‘the city is a repository of peoples memories and of the past’ - then this particular bus stop on Tottenham Court Road is no longer just a shelter from a rain and a marker for buses to stop, but a rich archive or web of social experience. (1995:24).