Some time ago the bus I take got rerouted. It’s a long story and to make it short I will just say that I never really knew, for a few weeks, where and when I was going to be able to take it. This already reflects how predictable taking a bus is usually in Portland, and how lucky I am to mention this as an uncommon thing.
One day I was told that the bus would come to the usual stop again, and I waited there with disbelief and expectation. Needless to say, I was extremely happy and demonstrative when it actually came.
A few weeks passed by, and one day I jumped into the bus, to hear the driver say: “So this is your enthusiasm? It used to make you so happy to see me that you were clapping!” Yes, just a few days of taking it for granted and I seemed to not appreciate this divine bus anymore, or the amazing driver.
“This is our last week together”, she said on Monday. Oh, another driver I get attached to, and she is leaving, I will miss her so much.
How come bus drivers in this wonderful city are usually so friendly and kind, and have such sense of humor? How can I remember her words? How can I remember to appreciate every time the bus actually arrives to the stop, arrives on time, and has a smiling driver inside, greeting me?
