Ankle-biter express (write of passage number fifty-five)

 "Oh, no-no-no-no-no...."  I breathed, gazing in horror out the bus window.  Two days in a row, I'd escorted Demeter to medical appointments, the latter being a dental appointment that lasted over an hour.

We'd been thrilled to just catch a bus bound for home, securing courtesy seats with a gap to keep Demeter's walker out of the aisle on a relatively uncrowded bus for a late weekday afternoon.  

Not quite this bad

The bus turned up the incline on Burdett Avenue, and lined up at the stop outside the Starbucks were two dozen seven-year-olds in day-camp teeshirts and yellow vests, intending to return to the community centre with a grand total of three supervisors.  In the grand summer tradition, exactly one supervisor went to the back of the bus with the youngsters, while the other two stayed at the front of bus, calling directions while the kids hung ineffectually from the dangling loops intended for adult standees, and clutched at Demeter's walker.  

I caught the eye of one of the minders and said, firmly:  "My mother has a walker.  She will be getting out at Cook and Fairfield."

"Cook and Fairfield," the minder repeated, a little dazedly.

Looking with some despair at the aisle, a sea of little yellow vests, I rang the bell just after the Vancouver stop and raised my voice:  "Lady with a walker getting out at Fairfield and Cook!"

I could hear the message being passed to the front, where at least half a dozen adults, who had been unfortunate enough (or foolish enough) to board behind the ankle-biters, were crammed beyond the yellow safety line.  The driver called her acknowledgement and about a dozen people of varying sizes poured out on to the sidewalk to allow us out.

As I helped Demeter step down backwards, I heard the driver yell:  "NO!  You cannot get on!  These people are all getting back in!  This bus is FULL!"  She smiled reassuringly at us, and I thanked everyone.

This was an improvement on the day before, when a couple (old enough to know better) leapt ahead of us like a pair of gazelles, and claimed two courtesy seats, leaving only enough room for Demeter to sit and clutch her walker close.

I'll bet they were American.