>First off, let me say that you are a good bus driver. I never fear for my life or wish I had buckled the kids in tighter. You don’t wear too much cologne or play annoying music and you’re nearly always on time, and for all this I am extremely grateful.
I have ridden with you every morning for two months now, and were it not for the fact that the bus doors open for me each morning I would not be certain you knew I existed. Despite the fact that I persist in greeting you each day, there has never once been eye contact or even a gesture – much less speech! – from your end. Perhaps once or twice you’ve muttered general comments into the air, but they were by no means directed at me.
To be honest, I couldn’t even pick you out of a lineup unless I were looking at backs of heads – or eyes in rearview mirrors.
This is sad.
And mildly hilarious, I’ll give you. Rest assured this will be fodder for a character in a novel one day.
But honestly, could you just acknowledge my existence, please? If you don’t do it of your own accord I’m going to be forced into desperate measures…. suddenly developing Tourette’s, let’s say, or shooting silly string at you while you drive. Blowing a foghorn. Flashing. WHATEVER IT TAKES.
Consider yourself warned. I matter, darn it, and I exist! And I just know that if you turned my way just once you’d see that I’m not half bad and no lasers shoot out of my eyes to kill you. Promise.