That Plastic Bag

My hate affair with trains has been extensively well-known among my closest peers. They make me stand from Bedok to virtually anywhere, whether its changing of the lines or not. Naturally, working in the CBD area came to pose a mental trauma to me due to the "die-die have to take train" thinking.

But again, I am truly blessed.

A private bus service, whether legal or not (in the words of Teh Halia), comes at 8.37am, right at the bus stop of my house and drops its passengers off at designated stops like Shenton Way, Anson Road etc at the price of $1.50.

An absolute solution of convenience for me, given that I sit all the way, aware of the 30 cents or more that I am saving, alongside with the extra time spent on my breakfast, makeup and hair.

Despite all these, I am still not blessed with one thing: Punctuality.

For 2 days straight in a row, I had to run to the bus stop, jaywalking the same road I was hit by the car before.

But again, I was greeted by positivity.

The driver actually waits for me.

Not only me, but the regular passengers that he could recognize their faces by. And he greets us as customers, not as SBS passengers.

True to amazement of this wonderful service, he came driving a different bus this morning.

I could not recognize it as it had no sign of the direction it was going.

But he honked at me and waved his hands, indicating that was my morning bus indeed.

What made this morning different was what made everyone smile as they boarded the bus.

Not the driver's enthusiastic greetings of "Good Morning!".

It was the plastic bag that he requested for the girl in the front row to hold the coins of the bus fare as there was no coin box.

Oh by the way, for the first time in my life, I received change when I put in a $2-note. Now how can that be similar to any other days...