You were not driving the bus I needed, but when you saw me running down the sidewalk as my bus pulled away, you stopped in the street and honked at me. I was frustrated, tired, and cranky at having chased my bus down the block — but you opened your door and said, “Hop on! We’ll catch him at the next stop!” You listened to me rant a bit about how my regular driver has been running a little early – just one or two minutes, but it’s enough to make me miss it (as, in fact, I missed it the day before). I have a very narrow window in which to catch my bus after work. You chuckled with me when I said the only way I’d be able to guarantee catching the bus was if I took up jogging, which wasn’t going to happen in this lifetime. And sure enough, at the next stop we caught up to the other bus and I was able to transfer, ensuring that I arrived at home on time.

Mr. Bus Driver, thank you. Thank you for caring when you saw me running, when so many others just laughed at my predicament. Thank you for humoring me as we rattled down 3rd Avenue, me fretting over whether the street lights would cooperate, whether we’d have a delay with the wheelchair lift, whether the other driver would just race off into the sunset and leave me to an additional forty-five minute delay downtown. Thank you, thank you. You made my evening!