The freeway flows chaotic.

The freeway flows chaotic.

I made a last minute dash across the street to get change for $50.
'I can't take that.' The driver had said when I presented it to him.

The young clerk at the bookshop across the street fumbled with the
jangling keys to the register. 'That's my bus just there', I'd said,
pointing and smiling, hoping he'd get the implied encouragement to be as
quick as possible. He didn't. And I could see the line of people
boarding was getting smaller.

My whole 8 hour trip to Sydney could end up being a waste of time if
that bus leaves without me on it. It's amazing that I manage to get
anywhere. I think the only reason I've made it this far must be God.
There's too many things (like bus driver's not taking $50) that I don't
even think about. Yet somehow it almost always turns out alright. Deep,
deep down (at this point) I'm not yet freaking out..

The clerk searches for the right key, rejecting some outright, trying
others. All the while I'm shifting my weight from foot to foot in an
impatient dance, flicking my phone open and shut. He gets it open
finally, mumbling as his fingers slip on the notes he is trying to get
the out of the drawer. Cynical memories of skill testers with their uselessly
clumsy metal claws come to mind. Eventually he gets it and I make it
back to the bus just as the last of the line is on board. A man is
smiling at me, apparently amused at my mad dash and i'm thinking to myself
'Yes. It's all very funny isn't it.'

On the bus. I look out the window. Where am I? Is this even the right bus?

Oh No.. I notice that the elderly woman who just got boarded has her shirt on
inside out I hate situations like this. I instantly feel like I should
tell her. But does she already know? Is she bursting to find somewhere
to fix it at this very moment, hoping nobody will notice and that if
they do they might think it's a new elderly lady's fashion? And if I do
tell her, how do I do it without causing embarasment? Or seeming
patronising or disrespectful? I could quietly tell her as I got off the
bus? I could slip her a note? Maybe she will get off at my stop? I don't know
if it is just me or whether it's a female thing to sit and figure out every
possible outcome of each action.. But sometimes its a real pain the the neck.
I think about it for so long that I run out of time to do anything. It's my stop.
I have get off. I feel guilty. But ah! I see that she's getting up! I'll just
tell her when we're off the bus. She shuffles slowly towards the door and I jump
off at the back, moving to wait for her at the front. But she doesn't hop off.
She sit's back down in another seat. The door closes and the bus drives away..
'Shit.'