We have already established that I live in Moscow. In the woods. The Silver Wood to be exact. A decent distance from the rest of Muscovite humanity.
Tonight I was pretty wоrn out from 3 hours of commuting/grocery shopping post-work day and was relieved to see my marshrut waiting outside when I surfaced from the metro. This number of marshrut is a rarity after 10 pm, and it was already 10:15. And the fabulous thing about this particular marshrutka is that it saves me a 20 minute walk, which feels like an hour when laden down with groceries.
The danger is in the driver. Living near the end of the line has its problems. Mainly, none of the marshrut drivers want to drive ALL THE WAY to the end! If they've gotten rid of their last passenger, they'll flip a u-turn and head back. I have witnessed this first-hand many a morning as I've walked from my "stop" toward the main road, where my ride can be seen vanishing in the distance.
I was once again the last passenger in the marshrut this evening, with about 5 minutes to go until home. This is the moment when the driver looks at you, wondering how far you're going to make him drive. And I, as apologetically as possible, said yet again: "To the end of the line, please." And waited for the attitude that would ensue. Or the flat out refusal to take me that far. Both are normal.
Instead, the driver simply said, "Да. Конечно." (Yes. Of course.) And he said it in a seriously kind, helpful way. As if my apologetic attitude was completely unnecessary and he was more than happy to do his job and make my life easier. It was the first time I'd experienced this reaction in 3 months.
Two words. And they made my night.
It's all about the little joys my friends!
Tonight I was pretty wоrn out from 3 hours of commuting/grocery shopping post-work day and was relieved to see my marshrut waiting outside when I surfaced from the metro. This number of marshrut is a rarity after 10 pm, and it was already 10:15. And the fabulous thing about this particular marshrutka is that it saves me a 20 minute walk, which feels like an hour when laden down with groceries.
The danger is in the driver. Living near the end of the line has its problems. Mainly, none of the marshrut drivers want to drive ALL THE WAY to the end! If they've gotten rid of their last passenger, they'll flip a u-turn and head back. I have witnessed this first-hand many a morning as I've walked from my "stop" toward the main road, where my ride can be seen vanishing in the distance.
I was once again the last passenger in the marshrut this evening, with about 5 minutes to go until home. This is the moment when the driver looks at you, wondering how far you're going to make him drive. And I, as apologetically as possible, said yet again: "To the end of the line, please." And waited for the attitude that would ensue. Or the flat out refusal to take me that far. Both are normal.
Instead, the driver simply said, "Да. Конечно." (Yes. Of course.) And he said it in a seriously kind, helpful way. As if my apologetic attitude was completely unnecessary and he was more than happy to do his job and make my life easier. It was the first time I'd experienced this reaction in 3 months.
Two words. And they made my night.
It's all about the little joys my friends!
Bless that sweet driver!
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