Of Bus Rides and Rainy Days

For people living in the city, I imagine that public transit is like God’s gift to humanity. I, however, live in the suburbs, where public transit is one of the crappiest services offered by the town. Public transit in the suburbs is: a) never on time, b) not frequent (i.e. if you miss a bus you’ll be waiting at least 20 minutes for the next one to come. And that’s on the busy streets during rush hour), and c) crazily expensive. I’ve been using public transit ever since I was in grade nine (I went to a school that was 15 minutes away from me by car and 45 minutes away by bus), so I’ve gotten used to the long waits and the unreliability of it all.

Anyways, yesterday morning (rainy, Friday mornings are always the best kind) I was taking the bus back home from a thing at a friend’s house. It was actually a very unique experience. The first bus driver was really nice and smiley with the whole “Good morning” and “Have a nice day” attitude, which is not rare, but its definitely not the norm. [But, then again, my experience with bus drivers is limited to busy rush hour times when all the passengers are either: a) annoyingly loud and obnoxious teenagers that try to hard to look good and fit in, but will never admit it, b) shy teens that quietly show their monthly bus pass and then grab a seat next to the window so that they can pretend to be invisible and hopefully won’t get bothered by group A, c) busy middle-aged working adults, half of which look really tired and have premature wrinkles on their forehead, and maybe, if you’re lucky you might be able to spot d) a senior citizen.]

The second bus driver was… hmm… how to put it… waaaaaay to happy to be normal. There was an elderly Asian couple that got on the bus before me, and he was all like “HELLO!!!! GOOD MORNING! HOW ARE YOU?!”. Seriously, this guy was way too happy for it to be a rainy Friday morning in May. Either he was: a) high, b) drunk, c) popping loads of antidepressants/behavioural meds that make you super happy at first but suicidal after chronic use, or d) genuinely happy to see them. I vote for C. Reminds me of our OCD, overachiever principal last year that was always smiling, but could never sit still.

Walking from the bus stop to my home sweet home (<3)>

Now the same story from the worms’ point of view:

We’re sitting quietly, minding our own business on the nice wet pavement, when this crazy big giant girl pokes us with a log. She then proceeds to “carry us” (more like a dangling rollercoaster) on the log and throws us onto the grass, which is over flowing with wetness, so we drown to death.