Bus Driver, Please
As a student, I ride the bus every day. It’s a great place to stare at and be stared at by weirdos. But, the king-weirdo, if you will, is always the bus driver.
(POST-EDIT: I use the term “king” here to emphasize the strong level of weird that the bus-driver always emanates. I want to apologize to anybody I offended and say that “queen” would have also been an appropriate term to use. Unfortunately, I can only use one or the other as “Kingqueen” and “Queenking” are not yet accepted terms in our lexicon. Thank you and I’m sorry.)
Don’t get me wrong, I always say thank-you when I get off the bus. I’m grateful that the b-driver is there to drive me all the places I need to be.
As a side note, I would also like to point out that bus drivers always have impressive thigh and calf muscles and maybe someone should make a bus driver calendar and take it easy on the fire fighters.
The other day I was on the bus and, in an unusual moment of bravery, the bus driver decided to treat us all to a coffee-fueled diatribe. She popped on the intercom and informed us all that last year there were over 2 million accounts of unpaid fares and maybe we should think about that the next time the prices go up.
This speech went on for a good 10 minutes and even the guy in the paper hospital-gown gave me a look like “enough already, right?”.
Needless to say, my thank you was well out of ear level when I got off the bus.