Get a grip

I was on a regional bus service going to O’Hare airport around Thanksgiving. It was night and completely dark inside the bus rolling along the highway. The driver announced over the intercom that once we got to the airport, he was going straight to Terminal 3 since no passengers wanted Terminals 1 or 2. 

I wanted Terminal 2 and had told the driver before we got started, but apparently he forgot. I was sitting about ten rows behind the driver and got up to walk to the front and ask him to stop at Terminal 2. 

In the dark as the bus swayed and bumped along, I grabbed a seat’s headrest with my right hand to keep my balance. I moved forward and gripped another headrest with my left hand. The headrest had hair, unfortunately, and was actually a lady’s head. 

She must’ve felt my fingers clamp onto her scalp like a giant bony spider for a second and then I let go and apologized all over the place. She was about fifty, with white hair, matted down now, and she had a female friend in the seat next to her. They laughed and said no harm done.  

I told the driver to stop at Terminal 2 and then apologized again to the woman on the way back to my seat, and apologized a third time as I was the first and only passenger to leave the bus at Terminal 2, but oh that poor woman, sitting innocently as a stranger grabbed her head for balance, I’m so sorry.