The other day, while standing on a sidewalk on a busy street, I threw up my arm and waved it wildly in the air to signal to the hubby, who was trailing behind me by several yards, that I was heading this-a-way.  And I accidentally hailed a bus.  It screeched to a halt, right in the middle of the street, even though there wasn’t a bus stop in sight.

The bus was grungy and battle-worn.  The doors flung open, and the driver looked at me expectantly.  “Get in, get in!” he shouted.  I turned to the hubby, who had at this point caught up to me.  I looked at him, and, almost simultaneously, we shrugged.  It’s not every day a bus stops for you in the middle of the road.  What was there to do, except get on it?  We needed to get home somehow anyway.