After the curved the so long-expected bus appears. We were all full of joy seeing it, and especially because it was joined and there will be places for every one. At least that! People started to be agitated looking for their luggage, children, fellow travelers, disposing alongside the road. The bus decelerated and the doors opened. Astonishment; the passengers from the bus don’t even think of allowing the accession of the people from the station, the frozen and wet waited that bus as a blessing from above. The bus holders, formally, tooted along themselves, without any common effect as it was known that in this station nobody gets off. Even more unreasonable was the fact that a person around 40 years old got off looking as if he was making an evaluation of the so called situation. In the end he gives a resolution: “There is nothing we could do here, inducing at the first door”. After that he leaves for one of the doors from behind getting in front of me, when he starts to roar: “Open the door from behind!” In that moment a double trick takes place – the door opens and shuts down – little missing for the guy that I supposed to be the driver, to catch his hand in it. Looking at me he drops: “God damn you! I told you to open not to play any tricks. What on earth are you doing?!” I stare at the guy and I am ready to punch him in the face. After waiting for him for more than one hour in the rain and after that in the wind he “blasts” me? But in that moment all the bus doors open and I notice that in the driver’s “fencing” there’s a woman, his wife after the way he was talking and the way he addressed those “gentleness” thoughts. With a hand movement the guy invited us at the back door. “Hello, Hello!” he was speaking to me this time even though I still could not get in the bus.
– How many tickets?
– Three. I give him the money, he gives me the change, but with no tickets. I thought that it was him, no me, that mentioned the tickets …The guy seemed to me as drunk. Not abusively, but enough as to be aware of the fact that he shouldn’t talk to one’s face, to beware of curious noses.

The first impulse was to stop getting into the bus, but waiting for other two hours in the field with those smells? I got in with dark thoughts. With a baby in my arms I was looking to find a posture in this bus that was looking just like the University Plaza. The young people that were cleared off by the rain, almost undressed, filled the entire bus, taking an improper, the least decent, postures. I would have said that the rain also wailed them away, but it didn’t get them wet as they had few clothes on them. One thing was sure: we were all in a hurry to get home, to be home before six o’clock when the Football Championship from Italy will be broadcasted on TV, a dream came true for us, whom for years had TV shows for maximum two hours/day, with HIM and HER. I stepped ahead, at the front of the bus. Here people from the bus had a different character. Serious people, dressed in casual clothes. A little girl even offered me her seat. I pass it to my wife that takes the baby in her arms. I move forward so the other people could get in the bus. I get in front of a brown man with a fainted face, unshaved, that was holding on an arm four cases of beef cans. He almost dropped one, maybe because he was “more done” than the driver. He was in an aggressive state of mind. I might have not noticed these things, maybe not even him, if in the moment I was around him, he wouldn’t have shouted out: “Let it go!” as if he had to wait for me so that he could give this order. I look at him and I find that I don’t know him, although I try to temperate him:
– Sir! It seems that the driver is a little drunk, it’s not advisable to annoy him, we could harm him but more than that we could harm each other.
– I don’t care! I want to see the game! He answered. It has been a long time since I have seen a Football Championship!
– I hope we can all get to see it, I calm myself down.
– We will see it, how couldn’t we see it, barely we paid?! And he starts an argument from all that he can remember from his tumultuously life.

In the state he was in, his talking was more like a ding-dong scream dotted from time to time by the sputter coming from his mouth any time he wanted to be more convincing and more precise. God, you are punishing me again. This is my luck. Wherever I go, at a party, baptize, wedding, there’s always a drunk guy that holds out by all means to reveal all his qualities and secrets, all his well-doing and his kindness in this ungrateful world, that it makes you wander: how could other generations have lived without the kindness of this reward able man and it even seems that this fact could be inconceivable. This is how there is no party for me without this type of annoyance. This fact is kind of sad in its bases. That person had those dreams, wishes that probably could come true. But the only thing he did not have was the power to give up drinking so he could develop his big plans, big dreams, that maybe, half or totally achieved, could have brought the smattering of kindness that he now drops to the human kind. This gave priority to anything else. In this case he could still “grace himself”, but some don’t get to catch this train too.
And just like this, for all the reunion I have „an annoyance” that gets all over my nerves and time with his stories. How come they find me? Why do they take a hold of me memorizing all their silliness, undefended? I can’t understand at all. Could they have that certainty that I would introduce a charitable association, which in 10-15 years will arouse them gratefulness pedestals? I don’t know. But what is for sure is that, when a person like that gets close to me, for me all the fun is over. I can go home in peace, go to sleep, with no other issue. They see in me an unaligned and they hope to turn me into something? Now…the history repeats it self. The guy gets on my nerves, and I stand resigned. The fact that I am a providential can be noticed …
The bus windows are all opened. The wind had stopped and the heat that had chased the citizens away to the stream starts over again. All of these would have been bearable if it weren’t for that guy… Although, the bus was very crowded and most of the passengers were standing on their feet the way of driving of the car man attested that he only “touched” the drink. We were half the way, more than three stations between the villages, and for the way he was driving the bus nobody could cast something at him.
On a chair on my left there was a dressed-up fellow standing, with a start of a baldness, that through his way of being he was holding on to stand out in relief. On a bench from behind there was a family: husband, wife and a child. The rain started again. The rain gets through the opened window and gets the child and the mother wet. The lady gets up and shuts half the window. The guy with the veiled glossary reopens it …
– Not fully shut down …addresses him to the lady.
– Exactly, not at all, says the lady and pushes the window again.
The guy gets up and opens it widely.
– But, Sir, as you can see, it gets us wet!
– I know very well that you like to be wet in other places … he, he, he … the drunk guy answers.
– I think you started to offend the lady, I call him down.