If I’m late–I would say “running late” but if I were running I might not be late–and see the bus in the distance I take the advice of The 2,000 Year Old Man and never run for a bus. Unless it’s close and I think I can make it, which happened to me the other day. The bus was at the stop. The light was red. I was about five hundred feet away, and I always ran in the five-hundred yard dash when we had the end of year Field Day at school. Also I always came in third the one time there were only two other kids in the event, and five-hundred feet is a third of five-hundred yards, so I was feeling lucky. I was only feeling lucky, though. The bus drove off right as I got to the stop. I chased after it. I yelled and even hit the side of the bus, hoping to get the attention of the driver, or at least someone who might tell the driver to stop. It kept going and all I could do was stand there and seethe. On the bright side the bus that runs every fifteen minutes took more than half an hour to arrive.
What made this even more annoying is that the Nashville MTA bus schedule app no longer works. Well, it still works–it’s still available, and you can see what times the buses are supposed to arrive, but the part that tells you when a bus will arrive just says “N/A” which makes it a passive-aggressive app, but that’s another story.
Then just as it was approaching a young man crossed the street and stood next to me.
“Looks like I timed that perfectly,” he said.
I could have glared at him but, well, it’s not his fault.
The next day I was running ahead of schedule because I was running. I didn’t want to miss the bus again so I left a little early. Still I got to the stop just ahead of the bus, and when I got there that same guy was standing there waiting.
“Man, I’ve been waiting forever for the bus today!” he said.
I didn’t say anything. I was quietly appreciating my own perfect timing.