The Funny Part about Blizzards.

There I was, standing, waiting for a bus.  Any bus that might take me closer to home during the tail-end of the late-season (and much-needed) blizzard along the Front Range of Colorado.  And finally, there one was.  It wasn’t the normal one, but the driver said he’d take me to Boulder station.  

As I stepped up the stairs, I realized I was surrounded by bus drivers.   You know, because it was change of shift.   It felt like something out of a movie or a dream.

And oh my goodness, for the ten-minute ride, I laughed my ass off along with the two other passengers this driver picked up on the way.  

“Arapahoe & Folsom.  Over there’s the Planned Parenthood.  I know you’re too afraid to ask.”

“Even if you fail your driver’s test, you’re still allowed to drive a Subaru in Boulder.”  (Boulder Subaru drivers are a big joke to some people.  Not necessarily to me, as my boss, friends, and even my husband have driven one at one point or another.  This was pretty funny, though.)  

“Welcome to Boulder, where you might find people biking during a blizzard.”  (This is very true – I work with someone who commutes solely by bike and bus every single workday.)

This was a bright, hilarious spot in an otherwise frustrating day featuring four hours of commuting and six hours at work not knowing whether I’d get home tonight.  (I did.) 

Oh and Boulder – they don’t call it twenty-five square miles of reality for nothing.