In the future, I will be missing this connection
2. One week later. I oversleep. Once again, I run out the apartment late, although this time with the appropriate amount of money lodged securely in my pocket. This time, when I get to the street, the blinking red hand changes (as I look) to the solid red hand, which I know from MY EXTENSIVE STREET CROSSING EXPERIENCE means I only have a few seconds to sprint across before the light changes. Once again, the bus is sitting across the street. Once again, I run across. To my horror, when I breathlessly reach the bus, it is the same bus driver. "You again," he yells at me, "It's not worth your life to catch the bus." I argue with him that it was fine and that I had plenty of time, he argues back that there were TWO cars he heard gunning their engines and that apparently I was in imminent danger of being run over and left dead on a busy street on a cloudy winter morning. I disagree, and point out that I am not four, and can judge distances appropriately. We argue for about 5 blocks, until I finally haruumph and head to the back of the bus, where I studiously avoid looking in the rear view mirror where, I suspect, he is glaring at me.
3. At this point I have resolved to myself that the #12 bus on Sandy shortly before 8 in the morning is not one I wish to take any more. About another week later I am off work, heading home after a visit to the post office. This is, incidentally, about 4:45 p.m., presumably a time during which I would be safe from the overly concerned bus driver. I am walking to the bus stop, and once again I see a #12 bus across the street about to depart. Once again, I run against the light. I would like to point out, incidentally, that in this situation, it was a one way street with NO CARS on it. Very safe. Imagine my surprise when I get on the bus and discover that it's my old friend. He says nothing to me this time, presumably because it was indeed truly safe, but looks at me disapprovingly. I'm sure that he thinks that I'm just some crazy chick who likes to dare death on a regular basis by dashing across streets against the crosswalk. I feel slightly smug at this point, but don't worry, I get punished for it. There is a girl standing by the door with headphones blasting - I can hear them as I put my money in the turnstile. What I don't know is that she's developmentally disabled, something that becomes clear when she starts yelling at me. "You're not supposed to cross against the light," she screams, "it's against the rules! It's bad to do that! You're not supposed to do that!" As she has headphones on, she's very loud and draws the attention of the entire bus. I cringe, and while, normally, I might show some attitude if a stranger yells at me, in this case, I just can't. I don't want to be the bitch who cusses out the retarded girl on the bus. So I smile weakly at her and make my way to the back of the bus.
My missed connection? The #12 bus. Unless, of course, I am running late, and it's across the street and the light is about to turn green...