After the bus like a race driver

It was at White City, waiting in full sight at the bus stop, holding my hand out towards the street, clearly signalling to the driver that I want to get on. The driver completely ignored me, left me standing there, didn’t open the ramp. He just drove off.

I was so furious. Sometimes anger is a good thing. I decided to follow the bus so that I could get its registration number to complain. I dashed down the pavement like crazy. At some point I passed the bus, which was stuck in traffic. The bus had to stop at the next light. So I got up to the closed door and yelled at the driver and asked him why he hadn’t picked me up. Why he couldn’t obey the law of this country. That I would report him to Transport for London. I was so angry as this was by far not the first time that drivers just didn’t let me on.

Then I thought, “I’m going to win this.” I just kept going, crossed the street ahead of the bus and got to the next bus stop just when the bus arrived after dashing in my wheelchair at a frenzied speed.

And, look! The driver deployed the ramp. Immediately. Without saying anything. I was completely exhausted after my sprint, but I was in the bus. I had won.

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