Breakdown

Last Friday, a girlfriend and I took the M15 bus down Second Avenue.  The bus was barreling toward our destination when it stopped suddenly and we heard the engine turn off while in the middle of the lane.  All of the passengers, including myself, groaned in annoyance. 

Then, a lady in the front yelled that the bus driver was sick and couldn’t drive.  Another bus would pick us up.  Everyone looked at each other in confusion.  Then, another person yelled to check out the driver as he ran into the emergency room at the hospital across the street.

I stared out the window and, sure enough, I saw him running for the double doors of the hospital.  My girlfriend, a Midwesterner, and I, a Southerner, immediately worried about the fate of the bus driver. What happened?  Was he okay?

But, a few of the rough ‘n’ tough, born and bred New Yorkers were not so worried.  One woman bellowed from her seat, “I’m not moving out of this %$#@ing seat until he gets back from the $%#ing hospital.” 

Never mess with New Yorkers during their commutes. 

* I snapped this photo with my phone as we filed out of the bus and into the street.  Some people ran down the street.  Some caught cabs.  And, some stayed on the bus.