So, my bus driver did not stop for me this morning. He went right past me, despite the fact that I was waving my arms at him, standing under a street-light, wearing a light colored jacket AND a bag with a reflective strip. He just kept on going.
WHY? Is it because the woman with the ear-muffs and Wellington boots was not there with me? Or, perhaps it was because he appeared to be talking on a cell-phone? Aaaargh.
I became one of those crazy people you see on the street, running after a bus, shaking their fists, and spewing obscenities (yes...I did call my very nice bus driver some very un-nice names).
Of course, then I did what any mature 34-year old would do. I called and complained to my mom. Then I stomped across the street to the coffee shop (all the while muttering MORE obscenities under my breath), got a cup of joe, and headed to another bus stop to catch a different bus.
Once I got there, I proceeded to tell the other man waiting about my ordeal. Lest you think I complained to a complete stranger, I gave the cheerful version of the story:
"Aw shucks! Those wacky bus drivers...he just didn't see me today...drove right by! What a character. Having a few extra moments, I decided to patronize our local coffee establishment. I think it'll be a great day"
Complete Stranger at the bus stop told me it sounded like I knew how to roll with the punches. When we got to the light rail station, he said he hoped the rest of my day ran better.
I have to say, just that little bit of friendly chatter really made me feel a whole lot better.