The 1:50 No. 43 bus going up the South Hill was Third World full.
So I stood and held on to a strap up near the front. How urban.
I didn't mind my position because the driver is a friend and my proximity allowed me to visit with him a little.
Then, near the end of my ride, things took an odd turn.
With the bus heading east on 37th, an elderly woman pulled the cord for a stop. She then marched up to the front and complained to the driver that she had requested a stop at Arthur, which we had now passed. The driver politely informed her that her tug on the cord had come too late for that stop and that the next one was at Perry.
She continued grousing, and the driver calmly pulled over and offered to let her off between stops. She still wasn't happy but said she would go ahead to the stop at Perry.
And at some point she gestured toward me and said “I couldn't see because of this man.”
The driver, in a joking tone, said, “Oh, yeah, THIS guy…”
Only she didn't realize he was kidding, and she continued to go on about how I was obscuring the view from where she had been sitting, et cetera.
I have some experience with being patient with elderly ladies. But I came close to offering her my own frank analysis of how we had arrived at this state of affairs. I didn't, though.
All I need is for some other passenger to then go around telling people that he or she had seen Paul Turner yelling at an old lady on the bus.