singing in the rain

I spoke too soon. The weather is shit. And as a slap in the face for my previously bobo, if not patronizing, fascination with public transportation and its motley crew, every bus I've taken this week has been at least twenty minutes late. To quote one particularly ripe young bus rider as he huffed off into the dark wetness, “Where are we, man? LA?”

Truth be told, I was hoping that by creating these bus riding chronicles, I'd actually be jinxing myself. That is, I wouldn't (sniff, sniff) be able to get into the blog because, my God, the Prius fairy called me sooner than expected. I had no intention of writing about my adventures in bus riding. I was only trying to hurry things along. My ebullience was a ruse that backfired.

And now I got what I deserved. A rainstorm in spring.

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