Upon shaking my wife's piggy bank for another two quarters, exactly two state quarters shot into my hand, so I knew it was going to be a good day. I went with an iPod today to avoid speaking to anyone in lieu of reading the same copy of Wired magazine. It was a moot point, really, since there didn't seem to be too many riders today.
The driver was different: a younger woman. And while I'm sure it's my imagination, it seems like none (or very few) of the regulars are on board, as if in protest to the new driver and showing a sort of driver loyalty. I know the time's the same; I've got that down cold now.
I suppose it could be that today is a Friday and - just like most anywhere you go - things are just a little off on Fridays. Like the fact that everyone in my building seems to shed ten years instantly every Friday, clad in designer jeans and more casual jackets - clothing that magically makes them seem younger in every other way.
The two young black kids who get on each day (the only regulars today, so far as I can tell) whip out their riding credentials like a television police detective: quick flop open, then back. So they don't actually have to scan them, it seems. I rub my hand over my goatee and wonder: Could I pass for a high school student if it meant free rides?
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