I've gotten used to my bus riding routine especially on Wednesdays. Typically, I wait in intense sun for my first leg of the trip. If glares could kill, the driver of this bus would have murdered me months ago. I can feel hate emanating from her aura. (It is not necessarily directed at me, but all who would have the audacity to ride her bus.)
At night, I'm used to seeing the same friendly driver. I sit near the front to avoid the riff-raff in the back. We make small talk usually about the broken money collecting machine, the weather, and our gladness that the day is nearly over. Then, I wait for what seems like eons for my last bus to come. That driver gives no indication that I regularly ride his bus.
Well, it's been a couple weeks since I've done my regular Wednesday night routine. Today I got on the bus greeted the usual driver, and we chatted for a bit. She asked me why I haven't seen her and what I've been up to. Then she told me that last week when she didn't see me, she decided to wait a few minutes. She didn't want me standing alone in the dark wondering when the next bus would be along.
I decided that that was pretty much the nicest thing ever! At the end of the day, when she could have sped forward and gotten of work a few minutes early she waited for me. I am pleased to announce that there are some nice bus drivers out there.
21 hours ago