A bit of twist on a late evening bus ride.

------------------------------------------

Looking at my watch, I realized I had a few minutes to spare. I slowed my pace down from a run to a jog, then to a brisk walk. “Nice to be early for once”, I thought to myself. “I’d hate to have to walk through this neighbourhood if I missed the last bus home, especially on such a cold night.”

Shift work had its advantages and disadvantages. Sure, working evenings allowed me to run daytime errands without missing time at my job, and there was the small shift premium added to my paycheque. On the downside was my sleep schedule being a bit messes up, along with not really getting to see my girlfriend for two weeks out of every four.

I contemplated all of this, along with the fact that I was next up on the seniority list. “When Frank retires, it’ll be straight day shift for me. Sweet!” It wasn’t a bad job, either — not too stressful, and the money was reasonable.

The bus arrived at the stop, and I climbed aboard. I dropped my ticket into the farebox, and nodded a greeting to the driver. He nodded in return, and I walked down the aisle to a seat about halfway near the rear exit. I suppose I could have sat anywhere — I was the only passenger aboard. I settled in for my half hour ride home, and pulled out a book from my backpack. I opened it to the bookmarked page and started to read…

… and then put the book right back in my backpack. "Uh-oh," I thought. "I hope this will be a mild one." I looked out the windows, and then up at the mirror at the front of the bus, waiting to make eye contact with the driver. After a few moments, he looked up and suddenly a very startled expression crossed his face. The bus veered over half a lane before he realized he needed to pay more attention to the road.

Not wanting him to get into an accident, I decided I would move up to the front. I sat at the seat right by the front door and started making small talk.

“Busy day?” I asked.

“Not too bad,” he replied, looking over at me warily. He paused a few seconds, then asked “I don’t mean to be rude, but… where did you come from? You weren’t on the bus three minutes ago.”

“Well, actually, I was,” I answered. “Let me guess… you were wishing for an attractive woman to get on the bus, right? One that would actually sit up here and talk to you, instead of sitting way in the back, listening to shitty music on her MP3 player. Am I basically correct?”

“Well, yeah, I guess so. That still doesn’t explain where you came from.”

“True, it doesn’t. However, I am here now, talking to you. Do you find me attractive?”

“Definitely!” he said, and I had to smile.

“And would you like to talk with me?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“Well, let’s chat, then. What’s your name?” I asked my ‘public limo’ driver.

“Dean,” he responded.

So, we spent the next 25 or so minutes talking about this and that and the next thing. Dean was single, cute, and had an excellent sense of humour. He was a great conversationalist, once he got over his initial shyness. He flirted subtly, and was very charming. As we approached my stop, he asked the inevitable question. “So, I’m working the evening shift for awhile. Will I see you again?”

“Sadly, Dean, you won’t. I can only grant you one wish, once. However, you should never stop dreaming or hoping. I do know that you will meet a very special woman on one of your routes, in the not too distant future. If you seize the opportunity, amazing things will happen.” With that, I leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

I walked to the back where my knapsack was. I sat down, and pulled the ‘stop’ cord. As I walked back to the front, the bus slowly came to a stop.

“Good night, sir,” Dean said.

“Have a good night,” I said to him. And with that, I stepped into the cold winter night.