Lightning Rod

The other day I rode the bus to work like I usually do. With my current routine, my path crosses that of a crippled Asian college student who rides the same bus. I think his legs are missing or something. This kid is probably 20 years old or so- and has a funny mop haircut and a slightly neglected upper lip mustache (is that redundant?)

Given this kid's handicapped nature, he always gets on the bus first because he has to situate his wheelchair in the front where the row of seats lifts up to accommodate wheelchairs and the like. Also necessary is the ordeal of lowering the wheelchair lift to get him on the bus, which seems to take an eternity. The ordeal is repeated, of course, when he gets off the bus- not too far before my stop downtown.

I generally respond negatively to any disruption of my schedule, so you can imagine how my mood changes when I get to the bus stop and I see this kid waiting for the bus with a smug look on his face.

This week marked a new twist to my rivalry with the handicapped kid. After the wheelchair lift gently lowered the kid to the street and began to raise back up into the bus, it got stuck. Five minutes passed as the bus driver repeatedly raised and lowered the lift to try and unstick it and get us on our way. It wasn't until a passer-by helped secure the lift by pushing on it as the driver raised it that we were able to get going. I thought to myself... "a minor inconvenience, surely this is a one-time thing..."

Yesterday I drove to work, bypassing this process, and keeping my sanity. Today, however, there I was again, riding the bus with my handicapped nemesis. As soon as he was lowered off the bus I heard the grinding of the lift mechanism. "Here we go again..." I thought to myself. And during the 5 minutes that followed I decided that I was a lightning rod for inconvenience.

Always and forever...