The seats. Oh, the seats. They’re a masterclass in passive-aggressive design. They’re sculpted to be impossible to nap on.
You think you’ve found a perch, but it’s a curved plastic spine-twister that forces you to sit ramrod straight. It’s like waiting for a bus in a Victorian posture correction device.
And the temperature is a lawless free-for-all. One corner is a howling Arctic draft; the other is a sweaty sauna that smells of damp anorak. You peel off layers, then put them back on. It’s a cardio workout without moving an inch.
The Gallery of Characters
This place is a people-watcher’s Disneyland. You’ve got the guy who paces in circles, muttering his bus number like a prayer. Then there’s the woman with a suitcase the size of a small car, blocking the entire concourse.
Don’t forget the hen party in pink cowboy hats, screeching about Prosecco. They’re lost. They’ve been looking for bay 14 for forty minutes. Legend has it bay 14 doesn’t exist—it’s a myth, like a bus turning up on time.
BUCHANAN BUS STATION - Updated June 2026 - 23 Photos & 29 Reviews
And let’s not ignore the announcement system. It’s a garbled demonic whisper. “The 2:15 service to… [static crackle]… will now depart from [incomprehensible mumble].” You just guess. The betting odds are better here than at the bookies.
