There are mornings where everything goes according to plan and then there are mornings that convince you you were supposed to stay in bed. Today's morning commute was one of the latter.
I was heading into the office early on a day when the city feels empty since folks have fled to their families for Thanksgiving. As I turned the corner to see if the Circulator bus was within sight, I spotted it and ran across the street to catch it before the light turned. As I approached the bus' door, it never opened. I looked up at the bus driver who just stared at me.
"Can you open the door, please?" I implored.
"Sorry," said said, "I can't."
"You can't? Why?" I asked.
"I just can't. Sorry," she said with this horrible "I-don't-care-one-bit-look."
A few seconds went by before the bus promptly pulled away as I stood there without another bus in sight.
Moments like this conjure up a lot of negative thoughts, things not worth repeating. But more than anything, the whole situation just felt so -- to put it simply -- mean. Why was she so unhelpful? I just couldn't understand any of it. It cast a spell over the first half of my day.
If ever there was a time when I wished I drove myself to work, today was the day.
(photo via h.koppdelaney)
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