The Lead Up

When the bus didn't leave, I knew destiny was in play. It’s one of those things, like missing a plane. You wonder, why did I miss it? You hear the stories. The 9/11 flight attendant filling in for a coworker. The man sprinting through the airport, arriving at the gate a hair too late (thank God for that). That’s how it was on the bus at 11:35 p.m. that Friday. I had checked the transit tracker, left Sue’s at just the right time (didn't want to wait in the cold). The bus arrived promptly. Then it sat parked on Broadway for 15 minutes. Just me and the driver with the engine humming. I could hear the purr, feel its warmth beneath my seat. After some time, I called to the driver. “Why are we sitting here?” Admittedly, it was more a whine than a question. He eyed me through the rearview, said nothing. Typical. If Sue were there, she would have said, “Totally.” As if it were totally typical for a Chicago bus driver to be sitting idle with the engine humming when all you rea