The Bus

Hmmm.  Maybe I will tackle this.  The bus.

I grew up in NYC, as you may know, Bloggy. People in NYC can be....impatient.

Love you guys :) http://mystretchypants.blogspot.com/2015/04/toot-toot.html

So I took the M101 or whatever the First Avenue bus was called to high school sometimes.  Or the M23 that went up 23rd street to the subway station.  You get the idea.   Mama knows how to commute.

Obviously the bus is second grade to the underground subway.  But you take it because it fits your journey perfectly; it plunks you down almost on the direct moment of the movie or class you are going to.

It also highlights you in a moving box with its day glo bulbs. In case you were worried you wouldn't be seen. Nope, you're on the bus.  Hiya! There you are.  All dangling from a strap as the driver shoots up the avenue.

The problem is there are hospitals along the way.   Which means that not a hundred percent perfect people are coming out of the doors.  (Is that PC enough?) Which also means, the bus has to stop, And here we are.  Not happy.  My bus stopped.  Aw, man. and now the bus  is like leveling down to the sidewalk. And the driver GOT OUT OF HER SEAT. What is she doing? Oh, she is helping the wheelchair along, okay, that's nice. Here you go. Tra la la. Pleasant sounds, and here we go wheelchair aboard.

Oh my god are we really we are stopping here?  We have moved one quarter of an inch.  Okay, okay, calm down, we are stopping a half block away from the bus stop.  Okay. So the wheelchair can debunk and get to its physical therapy.  We have driven you approximately twelve yards. And by the way?  My yoga class is starting and I am probably going to be LATE because of all of this....handicappeddness.

And this would be why I do not currently live in New York City. I just can't take it.