The driver’s comment had a certain quality to it. A line had been drawn. There was “acceptable”, and then there was “making little girls cry”.
“Now, before you get on that bus, I want you to apologize,” he said to the suit.
Flip Phone mumbled a few words. The crowd in line was watching now. We couldn’t actually hear what he said, but the driver stood there and listened. Then the attendant seemed to get herself together. She asked for his name again, and his reservation was on the list. He climbed aboard. So did everyone else, and there was even two empty seats.
I was relieved to get on. My trip was almost over. Half the day had been taxi-plane-layover-plane-taxi-bus and now it was only one more taxi home. The LIE was loosening up and the bus slid into traffic that had begun to ease in Queens. A hundred miles left to go.
Three seats up, Flip Phone was at it during most of the trip. From what I could gather, he was some sort of real estate lawyer. And in each phone call the confrontational approach he had used with the attendant continued during the rest of the trip.
It was great to get home that night.
Shortly afterwards, the Jitney limited riders to one call of no more than three minutes. I’m not sure Mr Flip Phone was the reason. There may have been others.
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