“You were supposed to turn back there.”
“No sir, you’re thinking of the number thirteen route.”
I was standing quietly at the front of the bus waiting to swipe my fare card, but I couldn’t because a guy had come up to the front and was arguing with the driver. It wouldn’t have bothered me but the light had turned green and cars were now speeding around us.
“Well what am I supposed to do?”
“You can get off here and you can walk two blocks over that way and catch the thirteen.”
“But I paid. Can you give me a transfer card?”
“No sir, we don’t have those anymore.”
When I started riding the bus you could pay your fare and get a transfer to ride another bus for an extra ten cents, but they stopped offering those fifteen years ago. Where had this guy been?
“If you go catch another bus and tell the driver you got the wrong bus they might let you on without paying.”
“Maybe I should give ’em your name. What’s your name?”
“Just say you were on bus number 701.”
The guy wasn’t happy about this. He was pretty insistent he wanted the driver’s name, but he finally got off the bus so we could get underway.
It’s one thing to be held up in traffic because there’s just a lot of traffic. It’s another to be held up because some jackass doesn’t know what he’s doing.