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Bus Story: The Asshole Imperative

November 7, 2016

He insists on getting on the bus first. Never exchanging greetings with the driver, he launches himself into the bus, but only so far. He stops, often halfway, his bulk blocking any further passage by others. Riders shoving past him to make room for more are met with a mixture of confusion and disdain. Over the months, this happens almost every day and yet, his behavior never wavers. 

This morning, she was having none of it. She’s petite, decked out in shades of scarlet and mauve, with a coat that reads like armor and a hat that, in another place and time, might sit atop the head of a conquistador. She boards, along with a curling team sized complement of riders. She runs headlong into the blockage, her small frame making a “thwap” sound against his larger one. She starts with a gentle, “Excuse me.” And then, when there is no response, she says, quite loudly, “Sir, move forward please.” And when met with his usual state of contempt, she says, in a surprisingly stentorian voice, “Sir, if you don’t move, you will live to regret it!”

The bus goes silent waiting for his response. 

When he turns his back to her with a huff, there is an audible gasp from the collective ridership. “Fine.” she says. And she raises a small hand, palm towards him, with third and fourth fingers slightly bent, and she taps her foot, gently, on the floor of the bus. Everyone feels a lurch, as if the world stopped spinning, just for a moment. The man squeaks, as if stung, and makes a dash for the slowly closing back door. By the time it closes, a large rat is seen jumping off the bus and running into a sewer drain. 

Karma comes in many forms and righteous fury is oft meted out by someone who doesn’t have to advertise their power. 

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From → Bus Stories

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