Historic Montgomery Tour, story two: as the trolley pulled away from Union Station it neared the first street corner, where it would turn right (back toward our hotel). At the corner were a couple, and when the woman saw the trolley she started waving frantically and jumping up and down. This was not someone hailing a cab; she was putting her entire body into some serious acrobatics such that you’d think she was trying to flag down the last plane out before the fall of Hanoi. So the driver (Dorita Jones, isn’t that great?) opens the door to see what this woman wants.

The woman wants to get on board. Dorita explains that it’s not a public transport, you have to buy tickets back at the station. The woman begs and pleads. Dorita says she doesn’t have tickets to sell, you buy them before the trolley departs the station. The woman begs and pleads. The husband intervenes. Understand, we’re not getting all of this in detail because of the DVD playing and the Chatty Cathys going strong, but that’s the gist. This goes on a while and Dorita, probably wanting to stay on schedule, finally grudgingly holds out her hand and accepts the couple’s $2. They get on, the woman smiles big at all of us and says, “Sorry,” and they flop into the two front seats. Then the woman says to Dorita, which I heard clearly because she deliberately projected over the DVD, and I am so not kidding, brace yourself,

“So where is this bus going anyway?”

WHAT.

THE.

HELL.

One would think if she wanted to get on THAT freakin’ badly, she’d know what the hell the trolley was, why, where, etc. Who does that?!? Who goes to that much trouble to hail a bus with absolutely no idea of where it’s headed, how long the journey might take, etc.? Based on their accents (Australian, I think) they weren't local and had no idea that the transport they were hailing was a tour of local history. I repeat,

WHAT.

THE.

HELL.

My flabber was ghasted.