How to Ride a Bus… Kind Of

I sat backwards on the lower level of the red double-decker. The guy across from me had his eyes closed. The woman next to me checked her emails on her phone.

“Bloomsbury Way. Alight here for Holborn Underground Station.”

I whipped my head around to see announcement run across the screen in the front of the bus. Yep, Bloomsbury Way.

I picked up my backpack. The woman next to me moved her legs to let me through. I stood, hit my head on the ceiling, and fell back into my seat.

“Ouch.” I leaned forward, picked my butt off the seat, and, hunched over, moved out of my corner in the back of the bus. I reached out to push to stop button on the red rail… and hit the woman’s phone. It flew out of her hands, down the center aisle of the bus, and broke into three pieces.

I stopped.  My hands were pressed against my mouth. I turned.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just go.” The brunette bun on top of the woman’s head wagged when she talked.

I turned and looked at my damage. I stepped over the broken pieces and walked to the doors. I held onto the rail and looked out the windows. Could she tell I was American? The bus stopped at a light. Please. Why aren’t we at the stop yet?

“Was it a Blackberry?” I heard some woman in the back of the bus ask.

“What?” Bun Lady asked.

“Was it a Blackberry?”

“No. It wasn’t even mine.”

I stepped off the bus and started walking the wrong way.