I get to take two buses home from school. The guy that drives the 80 is a crusty old curmudgeon. I mentally call him Sunshine. Every time he opens the door and barks "THIS IS THE EIGHT-EE." (as if he hasn't picked me up a catrillion times before and I might mistakenly be getting on the wrong bus), I want to say "Hi thar, Sunshine!" Something tells me that he wouldn't appreciate that.
So, he picks me up tonight and barks out, "There's another stop around the corner, you know."
Let me paint a picture for you.
I went to this "other" bus stop my first trip home, as I hadn't been aware of any others. This stop is literally behind a Shell station, behind some dumpsters. There is no lighting whatsoever. Right behind the pole with the bus stop number on it is a rather large dirt lot, also unlit. Between the pole and the lot is a giant, fluffy bush that could easily hide a couple of sinister fellows or a hundred and four ninjas. I got to the stop right at nightfall and feared for my life (or sanity) the entire 20 minute wait. The next day, I discovered one in front of the Shell station and down a bit, greatly lit, no heinous hedges, across the street from a nice, busy plaza. There's even a tiny ledge I can perch on! (Which I did on day three, until a giant black spider raced up my arm. I have decided that down the sidewalk a bit is a tad better place.)
So... why in the world would Sunshine insist that I wait there? He had to stop at the shiny stop anyway to let someone off. I responded with "That stop is too entirely creepy." He scoffed.
In other news, I want to try to play around with interesting new braids, but I'm oh so lazy.