I get to the bus stop a little later than usual after spending the majority of my morning deciding what to wear to tonight’s Valentine’s Day Happy Hour soiree. When I get there, a crowd is gathering – clearly, it’s not the bus’s best day.
One of the women who joins our posse of waiters is basically freaking out. She has a 9 a.m. meeting, she tells us (it’s 8:54), and she can’t bear to be late. Conveniently, the cabs are on strike today, so every taxi she attempts to hail sails right on by.
At one point she actually stomps her foot. I text Lindsey, who responds, “I didn’t know 3-year-olds who throw temper tantrums in public had meetings to go to.”
The Stomper finally gives up on the bus & the cabs & instead decides to hail… a complete stranger. She approaches a guy in a sedan who’s stopped at a light & asks him for a ride. As the rest of us at the bus stop look on in amazement, she hops in & he whisks her off to the meeting she’s already late for. It’s now 9:06.
One of the other waiting women turns to me, both incredulous & worried: “Should we have gotten that license plate number?”