the streets are rivers

for Shriver.

It is raining . so . hard. Goodness. Whose idea was this anyway?

I decided to take the bus all the way home tonight. That sounds odd, doesn't it? Well, usually I take the bus half-way home and walk the other half. ... No. Not really. Usually--I take the metro half-way, and then the bus the other half. It's faster that way. But, if I take the bus the whole way, I end up about 5 blocks closer to where I actually live. Elementary, my dear Watson.

So I had to bus-hop a little bit, to fix myself on the right route. Waiting at bus stop #2, I watched as my 405 went sailing by--literally, tacking and jibing right in front of me. He didn't even think of stopping. At the very least, he was nice enough to spray a wall of water on me, to cool me off. I was getting a little warm. Thank you, Mr. Bastard Huevón man.

Second 405 comes along. No thought about stopping, again. WHAT. is going on here? A fellow bus-stop compatriot was hailing the same bus, with a mighty, "¡Eh! ¡Que huevón!" And then, strangely, the bus stopped about half a block up from the bus stop, taunting us to run to meet him. Ok. Good thing we've invested in institutionalized bus paradas where you can always stop, every time, every day, rain or shine. No need to make up your own route, Bussy.

So we board.

The bus driver didn't stop to pick up another passenger until we were almost to where I live. Usually we make ... I don't know... 30 stops along the way? Nope. Not today. Instead, he went about 30mph , sailing down asphalt-informed waterways. Qué huevón. At one point he rounded a corner sharply and I, very sincerely, was thrown from my seat. It was half embarrassing, half hilarious. He reminded me of the mad mailman from the movie Funny Farm. Dear Lord. Save us.