The bus pulls up to the stop and everyone clambers on. Most of the blue seats are filled with a mixture of young kids going to the elementary school by the bridge, teenagers possibly skipping class and adults on their way to work and other responsibilities. The light turns red and the driver leaves the door open for any stragglers. A small boy with curly black hair, no older than seven drives a red toy convertible up and down his legs while the older man with a thick gray beard next to him taps his foot in frustration. The light turns green but the doors stay open. Two minutes that feel like ten pass and the bus still hasn’t moved. The bearded man begins to mutter under his breath. A young woman with a bright red mohawk sitting on the other side of the boy taps her fingers on the pole. One more minute trickles by and a teenage boy with a canary yellow bomber jacket yells “what’s the goddamn holdup?” The doors start to close like a four person crew of three inch high people are pulling levers and pulleys to bring them together. The bus slowly eases away from the curb as the light turns yellow and the bearded man sighs in relief. The small boy keeps making vroom vroom sounds. The hustle continues.