Adventures on the 8...or the 43

Yesterday morning was a specific display of how bad I am at riding the bus. I know, I know, it really shouldn't be that difficult, but I'm kind of a dip. My phone had died overnight, and I didn't bother to charge it; figuring I could easily wait until I got to work to do it. I didn't NEED to use OneBusAway, right? Wrong. I got to the stop and noticed that I had about 15 minutes to kill. So I went into the store to get something for lunch. Chips were BOGO (BLAMO!) so I got two bags and some cottage cheese. Got a reusable bag and headed back outside. I noticed I still had a few minutes so I walked on down to another stop. I waited (impatiently) for the bus to show. I walked up and down the stop, listened in on my fellow bus riders' conversations.I saw the bus coming down the hill and took to making sure that my bus fare was ready. The bus stopped, I hopped on, strangely proud of getting so much done without relying on my electronic tether. I quickly noticed that the route was not correct. "Shit SHIT! Dammit. AGAIN?" I thought, and got off on the next stop. The routes were close so I started running back to the stop hoping to catch the number 8 (I had gotten on the 43) I was less than a block away and I see the green chariot that is the 8 zoom by. "Son of a BITCH!" I said. Channeling dear Gene Wilder in Silverstreak. I resigned myself to my fate. I was walking today. I had spent $2.25 on a waste of time.