Four

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Everyday, endless lines of buses go by headed in the wrong direction and with each passing bus I am more and more convinced that my bus will never come. It's cold and it's Pittsburgh, so I'm being doused with unpleasant freezing rain that attacks horizontally so umbrellas provide no shelter. That's enough motivation to ride the wrong bus up to the main intersection where maybe I'll be just lucky enough to see even more buses with the opposite heading. More waiting. I imagine not being in the rain and then remember all the buses that have been too crowded, or full of yelling passengers, or pulled over for traffic violations. Before I can fully appreciate the experience of not stumbling over strangers' belongings and bodies, my bus appears and the waiting is over. And that's it.

Once, four years ago today, I found the right bus. Some things are too good to pass up. And too funny. And optimistic. And easy-going. And dedicated. And smart. And patient.

Patient buses. That's where this whole metaphor thing falls apart ;)