Last week on my way to work, I stood at the front of the venerable 4A bus waiting and balancing as the driver slowed for the St Kjelds Plads stop. I had adopted a leisure stance, and the obviously in-a-rush patron behind me was cramping my style. As the bus lurched to its final stop, inertia pushed me forward, and I went with it, deftly segueing from pure leisure to pure efficiency without effort, bursting toward the door that opened for me as if on cue, leaving Ms. annoying-hurry-GETOFFMYBACKALREADY in the metaphorical dust. I was validated! I was venerated! See, lady, this is how you do bus.
Man that felt good.
Every morning since then, I've tried to recreate that moment. Every morning since I've stumbled and cursed and nearly run into the bus door.