The Lady on the Bus

I travelled to town on the bus this morning, on a not-so-secret mission to buy this and that from the high street shops that we all feel guilty about using because they rely on sweat-shops half-way around the world to produce the tat hanging from their rails.

While approaching the bus station, a lady made a huge deal about marching to the front of the bus, and camping out next to the driver to ensure she was the first off.

I didn’t get it. We were headed to the bus station. Everybody was going to get off. What possible rush could mean you absolutely needed to be the first off the bus? Granted, she was quickly followed by a slow-moving avalanche of old people, but still – craziness.

I will admit that old people preparing to get off trains before everybody else has become a source of amusement. I see it every time I travel with work, and then join the rest of the passengers in walking past them within half a minute of leaving the train myself. I don’t know why they do it. I wonder if they are the same people that drive along twisting country roads 10mph below the speed limit, because in their heart they always wanted to lead a parade ?

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