Perfectly Normal
There was a bus stop right outside my apartment during college, yet it was terribly unreliable. If I was early, it was late. If I was on time, it was early. If I was late, it was on time, and the next one would be extra late.
The usual driver for the route operated under the misconception that the riders were little more than a captive audience for his one-man show of unfunny comedy and random trivia. In particular, there were moments where he would linger at a stop to talk to a departing passenger. It served as a clear reason for his regular deviance from the route’s timetable. Social butterflies may thrive as bartenders, real estate agents, and grief counselors, but I think it’s more important to get to class only slightly late instead of incredibly late because you needed to finish sharing a fun fact about dolphins with the lady who is obviously just being polite and feigning interest while slowly backing off the bus because she’s running late because we’re all running late because the bus was late because you read something interesting on the toilet that morning about dolphins and now we all have to suffer for it.
And yes I do have a deep-seated grudge against a complete stranger that’s lasted for nigh on a decade. What of it?