Her habit of exiting the bus and then walking right in front of it without even looking for the inevitable car zipping by horrifies me.
I honked one night when I saw a car passing me as Dory Dumbo pretended my ride was a school bus. Frantically waving my hand out the window to alert both dumbasses of impending doom only prompted a middle finger from the 20-something I was trying to safeguard.
The car stopped just in time, the driver also flipping me off and honking at me in foolish annoyance.
Saved both dumbasses.
She doesn’t care to hear me. “Spare me the lecture and let me off, Boomer,” she snarled one night. Skipped underneath the sign above the door: “Don’t Walk In Front of Bus.”
Every time she exits, she flips her hand dismissively. Doesn’t look as she clears my 20-ton/40 foot long protective barrier, showing her IQ in the form of a middle finger.
One night, she will die in stubborn defiance of my trying to keep her safe. Before it happens she’ll likely complain about me honking at her. Maybe she’ll add how I always mutter, “Dumbass.” Management will call me in, chastise me for honking and stating the obvious.
If I don’t honk to warn her, or say absolutely nothing (as it seems she expects) I can to stop her from dying at the hands of Izzy Impatient, I will be lambasted for not doing what I was told not to do.
That’s transit management for you. Too often masters of reckless incompetence. Rest assured though, I’ll be painted guilty either way.
Beep beep BAM.
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