We have to keep this bus above 30 miles an hour!
Yesterday was a bad bus day. You know, the kind that involves standing next to someone with B.O. or a full rotisserie chicken that’s rolling around, smearing grease everywhere (both have happened to me).
I hopped the wrong transfer on the way home because I drown out vital information with my headphones. Like where I was/the century we’re in/my name. In my post-work stupor, I got on the wrong route. When the driver called last stop I just sat there, failing to realize I was the only passenger. “This is the ‘E’ line, not the ‘C’ line,” he said, irritated. I got off the bus and called a cab.
While waiting for the cab, I stumbled onto a movie filming at Seattle’s Union Station. Not just any old movie, an OLD movie. With vintage buses, Vespas and motorcycles, men in fedoras caring boxy suitcases, women in pillbox hats, lips painted ruby red. I heard the director say, “That’s a wrap.” Stumbling into a filming that involves an old bus after getting on the wrong bus was surreal. Is the universe trying to tell me not to complain about my commute by sending me a vision of the past?
Look at that bus. You could have to travel like that. They probably wish they had rotisserie chickens.
Or maybe the universe is telling me to dress better.
I would have asked what the heck was going on, but I was agitated from my commute and didn’t want a high-powered Hollywood type to scream at me.
I think it’s safe to assume they’re filming Speed, The Prequel.