Really Nice Bus Drivers: A Celebration

It's time for an overdue YAY! for really nice bus drivers.

This breed of bus driver is, unfortunately, an endangered species. They are the pearls in a SEA OF OYSTERS AND CLOSED BUS DOORS.

Today, I was held back half an hour in work because the close-up went wrong (a frequent occurance). Usually, finishing up at 7pm every Friday, I'd be dawdling, texting and iPod-bashing the day away as I shuffled impatiently in my wait for the illusive 7.40pm 42 bus. Today, however, was a bit of a LEG IT scenario.

Over the course of my legger, I accidentally plowed through some youngwan, and had to go through the mandatory apology and politeness in order to avoid public abuse. This added a fateful twenty seconds to my obstacle-laden bus run.

Spotting the 42 from the crossing at Marlborough Street, I began UltraPegging. No way was I waiting for the 8.20pm, which would mean that I'd probably only get home from my 7pm finish at around 9.30pm. I'd be devo.

The bus pulled away just as I got to the bus stop. I was heartbroken. It was far, far away. However, I noticed the trusty Luas line had stopped the bus in traffic! In my greatest ArmChance move since THE BEGINNING OF SEPTEMBER, I ran up to the door of the bus... effectively in the middle of the road. Dreadful danger.

I looked sadly at the bus driver. He looked at me, and just turned back round and looked ahead. Crestfallen, I resigned myself to the inevitable DriveOff. I was turning to go back to the bus stop, when THE BUS DOORS OPENED. The light was green at this stage and everything. The driver beckoned me onto the bus.

I am almost fifty-six per cent sure that he is the only bus driver in all of Ireland who, at that late stage, wouldn't have relegated me to a 9.30pm arrival at home. I got in at 8.40pm. Delighted.

Thank you, Mr. Really Nice Bus Driver. Godspeed.