A Bushy Bus Man

Dear Mr. Bus Driver,

You gave me quite a start when you jumped out of that tree! For a moment, I thought your dangling brown boots and worn jeans were those of just another Grenadian – recovering from a beserko weekend bender.

So you can imagine my surprise when you rolled out of that tree and stumbled over to the school bus – the same lonely bus I had boarded about 10 minutes before. You know, the one you left running, unattended with the radio on full blast?

With a jerk of the door, you asked, “What time is this bus supposed to leave?”

“Eight-Twenty,” I replied, as the face of the green digital clock at the front of the vehicle flashed 8:25 a.m.

My surprise melted into frustration when you started to protest. The driver who had just stumbled from a tree was sure I was wrong and was going to prove it. After five more minutes of arguing, you plopped down behind the wheel and with a huff you said, “We will go to the campus, but I will show you! We will check the schedule posted there and you will be wrong.”

I wasn’t.

With a mumbled, “Oh,” and no eye contact, I watched you, Mr. Bus Driver, ascend your perch behind the wheel and take off again to collect another unsuspecting rider.

I was frankly shocked. The bus drivers aren’t all like you. In fact most of them are pretty darn nice. But it was a Saturday and this was Grenada. The weekend brings the “replacement” bus drivers who apparently jump from small bushy trees after … well, I don’t want to know what you were doing up there.

This is just a warning that you might want to watch your back oh-great-bush man. Because the next time I see your boots dangling from that tree and the keys dangling from the ignition, I am going to avoid the argument and just drive myself.

Sincerely,

Sarah Glenn

P.S. I called your boss.