It’s snowing, the busses are few and far between and of course packed to capacity.

Some veterans have been lined up at the bus stop for the past half an hour. Many a bus has passed them by.

As you get into the shelter, they give you the once over, sizing you up to see the type of bus rider you are.

~Are you the pushy bus rider, the each man for himself bus rider, who’ll knock over the lil ole lady to get into the bus?

~Are you the accommodating bus rider, who’ll let you, get on before her, in deference to amount of time you’ve been freezing your ass of ahead of her.

~Are you the bitchy bus rider, who will complain out loud to anyone who will hear you about how terrible the system is, thereby infecting all with your malaise?

Then you see it, in the distance, like a fresh glass of lemonade on a hot day, twinkling lights and the familiar red and white box, heading towards you with remarkable speed, a promise that soon you will be inside, safe and warm, snug against the comfort of mass body warmth.

And the eager bus rider gets out the shelter, bravely facing the elements, now that the promise of warmth is at his tips….

And….swooshhhhh……

What does he get for his trouble? A bus that bursts past him showering him with slushy nasty snow on his pristine coat, and a sign that says, “Out of service.”