So I tell her, at our stop, to stand there, Mama will get you in a second. She’s standing at the top of the stairs, I toss the stroller and all of our stuff onto the pavement–three seconds at most–but when I turn back to grab her the bus driver closes the door and starts to pull away from the curb!

I’m pounding on the door, running alongside, yelling, and every single rider on the bus screams for the driver to stop. The doors open again and I grab my daughter, white-faced and wide eyed but otherwise OK, and I hear several people chewing out the driver for not waiting for me. That would have been a very bad day if not for my fellow riders. So thank you, whoever you were.

About 5 minutes from the end of the line, I look up at the bus driver and notice that he’s brushing his teeth! He’s doing this as he drives and at the next light, rinses using a bottle of water and puts his toothbrush back in his bag.

I just thought that was really weird, especially since his break was only 5 minutes away. My theory is that he was meeting a lady friend at the gas station and wanted to freshen up beforehand.

Okay, next few stops, another elderly hopped onto bus and put her fare into box and asked passenger “Can I have change for $1 dollars”, I told elderly at box “Nope!, Change at the store” and driver told her get off the bus and change at the store, she got off in next block. Finally at the Nicollet/Franklin Ave the elderly in oversized scooter need to get off the bus. she going backward in the alisle to the lift, hard to manuvering, and she threw her cane to her grandson outside of front door. Oh boy! that bitchin’ in the oversized scooter need to learn how to use backward onto lift.

I ask some light probing questions, and it is eventually revealed that he had just gotten out of jail…for beating her up. He maintans that it was an act of retaliation after she pummeled him in the groin. While he was in jail, she married someone else who evidently had enough money to not have to ride the bus. It becomes clear to me that this guy is rather delusional, but I continue to hear him out. He is basically convinced that she still wants to be with him, even though he casually mentions that she won’t talk to him.

Then he asks me to proofread his letter. This was mildly heartwrenching. It had the tone, innocence, and grammatical aptitude of a first grader. My initial instinct was to offer some spelling and grammar corrections, but my logical mind concluded this would probably be in vain, as no matter how polished up his childlike plea for reconciliation might be, it was obvious it would be to no avail. The bus conveniently arrived at my destination at this point, giving me an opportunity for an out from this awkward encounter.