Everyone around him found some fascinating point in the distance to stare at, and like me, probably wondered if Seattle-ites were the most uptight people in the nation, or just the state? Still on the phone, still ranting to the poor Metro employee, the man stalks off and crosses the street.
My faith in Seattle-ites was restored. Two women standing close to me started laughing. So did I. We tried to crane our necks--ever so delicately--to see if he'd noticed... nope, he was still clutching his phone, turned away. Too far away to summon without a whole lot of hullabaloo. And being Seattle-ites, we oh-so-detest hullabaloos of any sort.
"I guess that goes to show that karma really is a bitch," remarked one of the ladies as we watched #355 rumble off along its route.
The man was marching stiffly down the opposite side of the street, still on his cell. We craned again to see if he noticed his missed ride as it passed him... couldn't really tell, but we shared a glance of unholy glee as we fought our snickers.
Karma, indeed. Don't be an ass.
Men are not punished for their sins, but by them.