To the Ferry

Left the apartment at 11am with ample time to catch the 1pm ferry to Vancouver Island. Google maps had kindly charted my course and I had even made note of an alternative route, just in case.

The #3 bus was pulling up to the recently-turned-red traffic light, so I dashed across the intersection and into The Hasty Mart on the corner to get change. Much to my chagrin, the clerk possessed none of the desired attribute implicit in the store's name.

"Are you able to change this? It's for bus fare."
He glances over his shoulder to confirm the aforementioned bus's presence. "Well, um… ah… I think…"
"Because I can buy something."
"No, no… it's fine. My… till is low."
"It's no problem, really. I'm just trying to catch that bus."

He ever so delicately takes out a five.
A ten.
Two toonies.
And finally, four quarters.
Zero hastiness.

The bus pulls away as he hands me the change. Onto the alternate route.

It was ultimately fortunate that I missed the #3 in question, as I was on the wrong side of the street. So on the next bus, to avoid further delay, I ask the driver to confirm my intended transfer and the side of the street I wanted to catch it on, all of which was nearly too much for him to tolerate. Despite having all the appearance of someone "not from 'round here" -- from over paying for regular fare to not realizing transit to the ferry would pass through 3 zones -- he interpreted my lack of orientation as a complete dearth of mental capacity. He slumped forward, glared, and with maximum exasperation, "That way, that way! Away from downtown. You want to go toward the ferry! Away from the mountains."
Maybe everyone was from out of town that morning and he'd answered the same question 20 times so far. For my part, the exchange sent me in the right direction and elicited sympathy from everyone on the front half of the bus.

The rest of the journey to Victoria was long, grey and, despite auspicious beginnings, completely uneventful.