The Timely Bus
Ah, the life of a bus driver. Full of adventures, scenic routes, and the occasional angry passenger who claims the air conditioning is either too cold or not cold enough. But nothing could have prepared me for the rollicking I got for driving 6 minutes ahead of schedule. Yes, you read that right – I was in trouble for being too early.
It was a bright and early morning, and the birds were chirping like they had a new single to promote. I hopped into my trusty bus, Bessie, ready for another day of carting the good folks of the town from point A to point B. As usual, Bessie and I set off with a song in our hearts and a cup of lukewarm coffee in hand.
I was in the zone. Traffic lights turned green as if by magic, pedestrians scurried across crosswalks with the agility of squirrels, and every bus stop was like a well-rehearsed dance. Everything was running smoother than a greased weasel. So smooth, in fact, that by the time I glanced at the clock, I realized I had somehow defied the very laws of time itself.
Bessie and I were a whole 6 minutes ahead of schedule. Now, in the grand scheme of things, 6 minutes doesn’t sound like much. But in the world of public transportation, it’s like breaking the sound barrier – it’s just not supposed to happen.
I figured no one would mind. After all, who doesn't love getting to their destination early? Little did I know, this was about to be my bus-driving equivalent of a Shakespearean tragedy.
I pulled into the depot, feeling rather pleased with myself. I was met by my supervisor, Bob, who greeted me with the kind of look one usually reserves for finding a rat in their wheelie bin.
"Morning, Bob! Lovely day for a drive, isn't it?" I chirped, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing.
"Lovely? LOVELY? You, my friend, have single-handedly thrown the entire transit system into chaos!" Bob bellowed, waving a clipboard like a medieval weapon.
"Chaos? But I was just—" I started, but Bob was having none of it.
"Six minutes early! Do you know what that means? People missed their bus! Grandmas were left stranded! Children are still waiting at bus stops, probably plotting a rebellion!"
I tried to imagine a gang of tiny revolutionaries shaking their tiny fists at the empty road. It almost made me smile, but Bob's glare quickly wiped it off my face.
"Timeliness is a delicate balance," he continued, dramatically. "You can be a minute late, maybe even two. But early? That’s a cardinal sin!"
I tried to apologize, but Bob had already moved on to explaining the ripple effect my premature arrival had caused. Apparently, the bus schedules are more intricately woven than the plot of a soap opera, and my early arrival had unravelled the entire narrative.
By the end of his lecture, I felt like I had committed a heinous crime. My punishment? A stern warning and a promise to never, ever, ever drive ahead of schedule again. Bob walked away, muttering about "time-bandit drivers" and "anarchy on wheels."
As I drove Bessie back out for the next shift, I couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Who knew that being early could be so... revolutionary? From that day forward, I vowed to keep a closer eye on the clock.
And so, dear passengers, if you ever find yourself waiting an extra minute or two for my bus, remember this tale of punctuality gone wrong. Better late than early, as they say. And in the world of bus driving, that’s the gospel truth.
___ Jamie
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