I think I’m going to move this site to hereswhathappenedonmywaytoworktoday.blogspot.com, because really, that’s all I ever have stories about.
I got on the bus outside the Spanish embassy this morning. As I swiped my SmarTrip card, I realize that there was a man at the driver’s window and a little black Mercedes parked just in front of the bus with the door open.
“You cut me off. You almost hit me,” the man at the window was saying. “Do you know who I am?”
I moved back into the bus and settled myself at a window on the left side so I could watch what was happening. I could no longer see the driver, but I could keep an eye on the man. The bus driver at first apologized to the man, offering some sort of explanation about not seeing the car and needing to move over.
The man at the bus window, a white man with grey hair and glasses, wearing a dark suit, continued to berate the driver and threatened to call his supervisor. The bus driver lost his apologetic tone, and asked the man to move his car so that he could continue his route. The angry driver repeated his threat.
“Call my supervisor. Here’s the number. Here’s my name.” It’s actually not the first time I’ve seen a bus driver offer this information to someone who was harassing him. The last time it happened, the bus driver then ordered the angry passenger off the bus, on a route where the buses ran only every hour. I had been glad to see the woman gone, as she had been terribly rude to the bus driver—something I think should be a crime, since I depend on these folks to get me around town.
“Don’t think I won’t,” the man said, grabbing a slip of paper away from the driver. “Do you know who you just cut off?”
“An asshole in a fancy car,” the bus driver replied. “You’ve yelled at me, you have the information, now get in your car and get out of my way.”
Without another word, the man went back to his car. I wish I could have figured out who he was, since he clearly thought he ought to be recognized. It would have been awesome to post his name on the internet.