why i love public transit

Today, on my way home from university after a long, hard day of translating, the bus I was lazily riding in after having decided that walking burns too many brain cells suddenly ground to a halt several metres short of the bus stop. Without a word, the driver put on the brake, opened up the doors, then casually walked out of the bus and into the neighbourhood doughnut shop to buy coffee. A lean woman in jogging shorts muttered something irritably under her breath before storming off the bus. The irresistable call of Tim Hortons.

I shouldn't really have been surprised. In my first year of university, it was practically a tradition for bus drivers to stop at this very spot at least once a month to buy themselves some steaming liquid caffine. Words cannot describe how much I've missed Winnipeg Transit and its fleet of jittery, coffee-addicted drivers. Iceland's busses, in their shiny glistening ridiculous expensiveness, will never really compare.