That Damn B61

I can't quite figure out why, but I really don't like doing the B61. I usually like long runs because they keep me from getting bored. But despite it taking an hour or so to go end to end, it bores me silly. Maybe I crave the "excitement" of having to deal with the jackass drivers in Middle Village. Maybe. But it would be nice to not have an accident for the rest of this year.

Then again, it may be the people I don't care for. Self-important hipsters with their jazz hats and skinny jeans; arrogant, demanding eastern Europeans; or that random annoying French dude I picked up day before yesterday.

You don't know how much I miss the South Americans and Chinese on the Q58. I'd never been thanked so much for doing my job in my life, on that line. And it's not that I need constant praise for doing a simple job, it's that they acknowledged my humanity. I wasn't merely some automaton that's powered down and left on the bus over-night. I was a living breathing being that warranted at least some level of eye contact.

Or then again, maybe Robin's right.... I need to be worshiped. But then who doesn't? :)