In the future, you owe more than m oney to the debt collectors, so you run. If that sounds fun, rub yourself with mint jelly and get on the lam in Bus(t).

When I asked Downstage’s artistic producer, Simon Mallett, for a few details on what to expect from the Downstage Creation Ensemble’s show BUS(T), he replied: “All will be revealed.”

At first, I was frustrated at not getting a heads-up, but I soon saw why he declined to comment: Much of the show’s charm lies in the way it sneaks up on you.

That being said, if you don’t want any surprises spoiled, do NOT read on.

For the rest of you…

I, along with a handful of other audience members, hang around outside the Pumphouse Theatre waiting for the show to begin. A tall man appears out of the blue, looking to bum a cigarette. Now, if you’re familiar with the park around the Pumphouse, and some of the characters who hang out there, that, in itself, is not surprising. The only unusual thing is the mask covering the upper half of his face.

Being the polite Calgarian I am, I pretend nothing is out of the ordinary. Maybe a mask is his preferred dress code.

Then, a strange-looking girl peddles up on a bike and someone else comes, then someone else — all wearing masks. The next thing I know, the audience is hustled off to the back of the Pumphouse, with a menacing man in a black suit and fedora in hot pursuit. A modified handi-bus awaits us, and the audience and characters take refuge within it.

At this point, I know I’m in for an intimate theatrical experience.

As panic ensues onboard and as the men outside slap “Final Notice” posters across the windows, I discover the four characters sharing the bus with the audience are deeply in debt. They are escaping the debt collectors roaming the area to collect, not only monies owed, but the people owing it.

I’m a theatre traditionalist. I like plays where I can watch the story played out onstage from the safety of my seat, so I am surprised how much I enjoy being up-close-and-personal with the action. I credit much of that to the thoroughly engaging performances on the part of the actors.

The four main characters are well-developed. There’s Trinity (Ellen Close), a young girl in debt because of her mother. There’s Leslie (Nicola Elson) who brings humour to the show with her sex-starved lusting after fellow passenger Johnny (Braden Griffiths), who is in debt from trying to impress the rich girl he wanted to marry. Then there’s Doris (Julie Mortensen), or “Nostra-Doris” as her bus mates call her, a quivering 82-year-old in debt because of her son’s gambling addiction. There is also a frequent visitor to the bus, portrayed by Col Cseke, who wheels and deals with those trapped onboard in exchange for bringing them essential supplies.

The characters and their plights grow on me and, as a member of the audience, I feel their fear and desperation, as they try to protect themselves from the debt collectors.

The half-masks the characters wear add a kind-of-haunting, otherworldly element to the production.

This play has a message, of course, a message about the evils of easy credit, too much debt and the role of the lenders (i.e. big banks) as entrappers and, ultimately, jailers of peoples’ freedom and peace of mind.

One thing I really like about this play, however, is that the message is secondary. The relationships between the characters and the suspense takes centre-stage.

The one criticism I have is that while the characters are indebted through no fault of their own — and portrayed as innocent victims — I would have liked some recognition of responsibility in the equation. Even though credit is easily available, exemplified by ads on the bus like “Romance Tip #42: Spend big, score big,” and “Diversify Your Debt,” individuals don’t have to succumb to societal pressure and take credit just because it is offered.

That said, BUS(T) is well-done, well-acted and while hanging out on a parked bus for an hour-and-a-half might not, at first, seem a charming prospect, you’d be surprised at what an entertaining ride it can be.