"What did your dad say when you asked him about his hitting me?" None of us on Route 21 asked to be included in on the lady's half of the phone conversation. Judging by the collective squirm from the rest of the passengers on the bus, we all felt the same. Awkward.
She, like so many others I've heard on the bus, was oblivious to the fact that we could all hear her. Let's make a new rule from now on. Let's post it right up there behind the bus drivers seat.
No guns, knives, drinks in non-spill proof containers, and No really personal phone calls.
Feel free to text though. I'm pretty sure that all 40 of us in this confined space was what the inventor of texting was thinking about when he invented it.
I can't say exactly what dad's reply was when he was asked about hitting the boy's mother. I have a pretty good idea though from mom's exclamation of, "No I did not have it coming!"
Route 21 is a real bus route. It's one of the longest in the city. Sure it connects me from the casa to the workplace, but it also connects me to a great deal more.
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