Kalah Allen

IT WAS the first time in my life I was attracted to a bus driver. I got on the #6 bus. She had purple hair, rainbow-reflective sunglasses, perfect teeth, and was as pretty as someone could be in a TriMet uniform. But it was her outgoing, friendly, and unabashedly geeky personality that made me curious. When I asked how she was doing, she said, “Oh, just driving in circles!” The bus drove past a new construction site. “Oh Mylanta,” she cried, “what on earth will that become?!” A family boarded the bus. Mom and dad only spoke Spanish, and the seven-year-old daughter translated with difficulty. As soon as things were resolved, Ms. Mylanta shrugged and smiled. “Seven years of Spanish and I still suck. Ha!” At my stop, instead of “Thank you,” I said to her, “You are wonderful.” She smiled and said, “So are you. I like your face.” And that was that. I have since ridden the #6 bus about 20 times, hoping to meet Ms. Mylanta again. If I do, I will be asking the bus driver out on a date.—Anonymous