I knew things weren’t going to be good when I got to the bus stop this morning and there was already a gaggle of people standing there. Clearly, this was indicative of a transit problem. After too long, a bus pulled up and we all got on. I landed one of the old people seats in the front so that was cool, but then at the next stop, one of those old people needed to get on. I got up and went to stand in the back with another older lady and a blue-haired chick. The delays mounted as it took forever for the oldster and his Rascal ™ to get situated in the front. The lady next to me started hollering for the driver to open the back door. She’d had enough, I presumed, and decided to wait for the next bus. The driver didn’t hear her, so the blue-haired chick took gave a holler too. She had lungs. The door popped open and the lady got out, grumbling, and finally we started moving again. At the next stop, with another dozen or more people crowding on, I started to think that lady had the right idea. Sure enough, I could just make out the next bus coming over the hill behind, so I hollered for the driver to open the back door, but the driver didn’t hear me. Then I heard the blue-haired chick inhale. The sound started somewhere from the middle of her small body, some other-worldly cavernous sound-making place, and funneled out her mouth in a melodic resonant stream that rushed forward in a whoosh so clear that the whole bus was filled with the sound of “OPEN THE BACK DOOR PLEASE!” In the hush that followed the door popped open and I said, “Thanks! You’re really good at that!” She shrugged and said, “It’s my job.” That left me wondering as I waited alone at the stop for the next over-crowded bus to come by, “What sort of job would that be…? Opera singer? Soccer coach? … Yodeler? ”
Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.