Memories of St. Louis (2b of 5): One boorish passenger on return bus trip.

This one short fresh-faced bro-ish 19 year old (Latino) guy from Texas at the table by my new seat was worried about making his bus connection and getting back to his big state school university on Monday because the bus was late – so he called up the fly-by-night bus company’s number and they told him he shouldn’t have booked his tickets so close (an hour apart!) and that anyway they couldn’t refund his ticket, that was the contract.

“So what am I supposed to do?”, he was like.  “If a bus left later, I would have booked that, but that’s the last bus of the night.”

Then, after the person on the phone gave him more run around and he had repeated that a few more times, he was like, “Okay, so you can’t help me, I really appreciate that, thank you, thank you very much,” all sarcastically and macho-ly, though he was only 19 and it would make anyone halfway normal want to smack him.

Luckily, the (black) (male) bus driver radioed ahead, and as we pulled up and I was walking off, the (Latino) kid talked to another (black) (male) bus driver who was putting the last bag in the under-the-bus storage, and the guy was like, “That’s you?  You just made it, we’re pulling off in a minute, no kidding.”