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Running late

Running late to catch the bus

We were running late this morning yet we still believed we could catch the 8am bus.

We were wrong!

As Lynsey and I walked down our drive the bus drove past.

“Why didn’t the bus driver recognise us and stop?” I thought.

“After all, we’re regulars!” continued the voice in my head.

In the past few months since I became a bus traveller once again I have seen the drivers stop for people running along the street on our route on numerous occasions. In fact I have always thought how wonderful the driver was to do that, especially when the weather is bad which seems to be all the time these days.

My husband and I looked at each other as we saw the back of the bus turn the corner. A decision needed to be made. Do we wait for the next bus on this route or do we head for the main road and try our luck there?

We decided to head for the main road since the buses come past more frequently on that route.

When we reached the main road bus stop we decided to take the first bus that pulled up. Unwittingly we hopped on a bus that ended up taking us in the opposite direction we wanted to go in.

What were we thinking? We know these different bus routes.

“I thought this bus would take us along the other end of The Terrace,” said Lynsey to me. This was turning in to an odd start to the day.

Another quick decision needed to be made. I pressed the buzzer and we got off the bus at the next stop and started walking in the direction to where we needed to go.

“This is going to be a long day,” I thought.

As I walked along I wished our bus driver had been a bit more like the one Webweaver had encountered …

I ran at full speed down Willis Street towards the bus stop, trying to catch up with my bus which had overtaken me almost a block earlier. If I was lucky, there’d be enough people getting on for me to get to the stop in time.

I was 10m away when the last person got on – and almost within reach of the doors as the bus pulled away, leaving me gasping (and swearing) in its wake.

I sat down heavily on the bench. Bollocks! Half an hour until the next bus at this time of the evening! I hate it when I miss it by only a few seconds…

“Oy! Hey you! Jump on!”

“Who me?” I asked the lady bus driver who had just pulled up in front of me.

“Come on – we’ll catch them at the next stop,” she said, as she radioed through to the driver of my bus to make sure she waited for me.

At the next stop I jumped off bus #2 and onto bus #1. Hooray! In 15 minutes I was home.

Thanks Mrs Lady Bus Driver!

Source: Webweaver’s World, 22 September 2007

These words made me feel a real connection with the writer – a fellow Wellington bus traveller. I had to wonder if we had ever travelled on the same bus together.

Some nights, as I sit there waiting for the next bus that seems to take an eternity to arrive, I long for the days when timing didn’t matter because my car was there waiting whenever I was ready to go.

In hindsight I have realised that I still made it to work earlier this morning than I would have had I been driving out to the Hutt Valley where my previous workplace was situated. Catching a bus still beats driving yourself even if you do miss the odd bus and have to wait for the next one.

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