The bus

What to do when the bus is very late? Start writing a blog post.
This will be the teenager bus. Yay. Maybe I should put in my earbuds. They are fine, but they are so many! At least I'm at the beginning of this route, so I'll likely get a seat. And no, my grey hair and stooped posture don't guarantee me a seat in teenager land on this particular bus. I'll push them and their backpacks out of the way, if there's a spare seat hiding under their gaggle. People who know me, they know I will do that.
City living has made me pushy.
And I like it.
Shrinking wallflower days of yore were useless and spirit-draining. I shouldn't have to walk in the mud or turn my ankle on a sidewalk edge because you (rude people) didn't learn how to share in kindergarten.
This behaviour plagues all ages, for sure.
A young gentleman held a door for me recently, and I made sure he heard my nonsarcastic thank-you. I value those brief, kind moments in the writhing mass of city lifeforms.
I know most people are "just trying to do the best that they can" and the consequences of their actions don't come from a place of malice. I'll try to remember that in my interactions with the crowd.
Sometimes ignorance and carelessness seem like malice, though, to sensitive people like me. I work to rewrite that story I tell myself on a daily basis.