Editor’s Note: This story was originally published in 2012. No details have been changed so as to retain the spirit of the original story.
It was already dark when the 27 pulled up, and tiredly I asked the round black gentleman behind the wheel if he was heading to Broadway. In typical bus driver fashion, he gave me the up and down look before replying, “Yeah.” Relieved to be on my way home, I sat down in the seat nearest the door and picked up my phone, unwilling to make any new bus friends…
It was then that he asked the question, “Excuse me miss, but does your cell phone die often?” I replied with a cool, “As a matter of fact it does.” Despite his horrible pick-up line, I had to give him credit. He was fair-skinned and light-eyed, a flat brim black Celtics hat tilted back exposing a blonde, curly crew cut. The question was the first of many, and he kept on talking about his family moving to Florida, to wanting to go to law school, to the tattoos on his chest, to the fact that he’d recently gotten out of jail and was trying to get it together.
While most would have shied away from talking further, I was intrigued and wanted to know more. It was then that I noticed the street sign that read, “Atwells” through the window across from me. It was the second time in two days that a bus driver had lied to me; we were definitely heading away from Broadway despite my clear cut question.
“We’re not going to Broadway, are we?” I said to myself out loud, wanting nothing more than a cup of tea and a good book to escape into at the present moment. He started talking again, “Are you kiddin’ me? No, we’re real far away from Broadway, you’re going the wrong way..” he said before tugging on the yellow ripcord to signal a request to stop and responding with, “Looks like I’m gonna have to walk you home…”
Erin Rides the Bus 