Nobody Rides For Free
He knows, oh, he knows. He knows EXACTLY what he's doing. You. Sir. SIR! You with the Donlands transfer, yes YOU sir, don't pretend you can't hear me, I KNOW you hear me. You CAN NOT USE that transfer to get into the station; you HAVE TO GET OFF here- this is the LAST STOP for you, sir. The entire bus resonated with her bullhorn hawkishness. Middle aged, overflowing in her seat, with processed yellow hair and thick black lines drawn across her lids, she commandeered the 56 like she was driving the Secret Service's motorcade. This is what Kit's mom calls a harpy. Mean, crotchety, and righteously indignant. It was obvious to the rest of the riders that this older East Indian man who was apparently subverting the system by riding illegally with the wrong paper transfer was ignorant of his actions. He barely spoke English. She Ra of the Bus Co. ceaselessly berated and threatened this man in full voice at 1:30 on a Wednesday afternoon while driving through East York. An ...