I thought they had left me, but I was wrong. I'm still surrounded by whackadoodles!!
First, there was the bus driver who was convinced I didn't know what bus I was on and it was the wrong one in any case. No, really, I know my bus lines. I know that the 162 swings by the hospital AND the library and I got on it for a reason.
While on the bus, there was a woman who thought it was all about her. The bus driver points out to me that this is the library (no, really?), just as I'm reaching up to request the stop. Another person flips out that he's talking and she doesn't want to go to the library and why is he telling her that this is the library, because she wants to go to the hospital and this is the bus that goes to the hospital, right? Ummm, it isn't all about you. There are other people on the bus.
Then, when I left the library and went to get off at my next stop, there was the woman who decided she had to block the door otherwise the bus would run off without her and the people who were running to reach the bus. I said "excuse me" twice, she didn't budge and I knew I could win that game. So I stood there, blocking progress, until she moved and let me off the bus. That was fun.
G and I went into Old Towne on Wednesday, via the REX because it's a really easy ride. A woman who's been on the bus for a while leans over when we're at Huntington and asks someone if this is the bus to King Street. Well, gee, it only says that its destination is King Street Station on the front and why didn't you look before you got on, you twit? Then, on our way back, the same woman walks over and asks if this is the stop for the REX to Huntington. Not that she's going to Huntington, but, really, the bus from King Street only goes one way (south). We waited to see if she asked at Huntington if this was the bus to Fort Belvoir. Thank heavens that didn't happen.
And, of course, there are always the people at AccessFairfax who sit by the printer and look at you like you have a third eye in the middle of your forehead when you have the nerve to go over and pick up your printouts. It's there for all of us and we can share and we'd also appreciate it if you didn't flip your nasty hair and hit us with it. Twice. (And then there was the guy who freaked out because I had something in the middle of his stuff and what in the world was that. Yeesh. Again, it isn't all about you.)
But the best whackadoodles are the insidious ones. You know, the ones just stop speaking to you and make the massive mistake of leaving an unfinished project in your possession that you were working on for them. Now I get to wonder when or if she's going to grow balls enough to ask for it back. (Yes, it's been frogged because I'm not a saint.)