Don't pretend you don't see me running up to the door. And in case you are visually impaired (always a bonus in a person responsible for the safety of the masses), you’ve got to hear me pounding on the side of the bus and yelling at you to freakin’ stop.
What did I ever do to you?
Someone once told me, “Never run for a bus.” Maybe I read it in a fortune cookie. Regardless, wise words these. When I disregarded this advice and wiped out on the pavement in front of a busload of people as I was sprinting to the bus stop, I prayed that the driver would, as usual, just keep on truckin’. Oh no. This mutant driver actually stopped, opened the door, and asked if I was okay. Yeah, except that my road rage has now been joined by road rash, and I look like a walking HAZMAT area.
The upshot of all this is that at least I know the secret to getting you to step on the brakes when you see me coming. But even maiming myself for a bus ride is a crapshoot. I can’t really punch you in the face since you keep driving away but you’d better watch your rear-view mirrors. I might just decide to run for a bus. Your bus.