Don't Shoot the Messenger

I grabbed my bag, laptop, papers and a granola bar, and flew out the door. I waved to my neighbour but lowered my hand when I saw her stern look as she sharply yanked her son next to her by his hood.

Okay, that was weird…

I had slept in! My car was in the shop, and of course, there were no taxis on the street! Today, of all days! The closest Uber was 23 minutes away! I am so late!

The bus! I don’t know the bus schedule... I ran to the bus stop and saw that one was supposed to be coming in three minutes. Relieved, I tore the corner off my granola bar wrapper and took a bite. An old lady glanced at me and muttered, "Unbelievable!" Her friend gave me a side-eye and responded, "What is she thinking?"

Um, excuse me, what??

I almost choked on the granola bar when a little boy across the street pointed a finger at me and yelled, "Mum, look!" The mother quickly shot a look at me and turned her son away.

I know, as a news reporter, I should be used to the fact that sometimes the public wants to "shoot the messenger," but I hadn’t done any shocking news this week. Did one of my old stories go viral?

Just as I was about to Google myself, I saw the bus approaching. I squeezed myself between the other passengers. No wonder I never take the bus! I can’t even breathe! Everyone’s packed together like sardines in a tin. I grabbed one of the hanging handles to keep myself from falling, and... the bus full of people stared at me. Disbelief, anger, embarrassment. What did I do!?

I couldn’t Google myself since I was using one hand to hold onto the handle, and my bag with the laptop and papers occupied the other one. I turned my back on them. If they have something to say, they can come and say it to my face! I hadn't done anything wrong! Luckily, it was an express bus with only one stop before mine. I pushed myself toward the closest door trying to ignore the mumbling and whispers around me. A tattooed man was standing by the door whose expression sent a chill down my spine. Should I be concerned for my safety?

The bus stopped, and I snapped, "What have I done?" No answer, just a bitter mutter, and a "She thinks that’s okay!" from someone at the back. I didn’t bother with that conversation and darted toward the news building around the corner. Everyone looked at me in disbelief and shock. I think that was my fastest run ever. I sprinted past the doorman, into the elevator – finally quiet! The doors opened on the eleventh floor, and my bestie was standing there… with the same expression on her face as everybody else had had. She spoke before I could open my mouth: "Girl, WTF, where are your pants!?"