It is not often I am forced to take a city bus. I personally have nothing good to say about them. How can one possibly know what to expect on a bus? All those people coming from who knows where, carrying who knows what!

I plopped down in an open seat. Immediately my olfactory nerves revolted vehemently against an odor that became more pronounced as my metropolitan transit nightmare coalesced into reality. She was coming up the aisle, assaulting passengers with either her packages hanging from one arm, recklessly bouncing off her leg, or with her mambo-dancing hip on the other side. Oh no, drat my luck, she was going to sit next to me! I looked desperately around for a way out and started to get up - too late! She angled her ample butt towards my face and fell back towards the seat. I plastering myself as close to the window as I could.

After sweeping my face with a large red scarf - in a misguided attempt to throw the long end over her shoulder - the dragon lady settled down; ignoring me completely. This suited me fine. What was that perfume, or possibly perfumes?

As the bus slowly made progress from one stop to the next, a few passengers disembarked, less got on. Those who did climb on board paid their fare and immediately started looking for a place to sit. I longingly stared at the open seats that began to appear as the bus made its way down our route. I desperately desired a change of locations but I was sufficiently cowed by my seat-mate-from-hell to ask to be let up so I could leave.

I heard the bus's double doors close, then the whoosh as the driver released the brake. With a puff of diesel smoke, the motorized billboard lurched forward.

I had been staring out the window watching a panhandler snaring a tourist with his pitch when I felt the urge to face towards the front of the bus. Coming up the isle was someone I knew from my writing class. She was sidling up the isle carrying a laptop bag. Her eyes were riveted on the empty seats in the back. I waved to get her attention, possibly a little too desperately.

"I know you," I said with great cheer, and too much volume.

"Oh hi Jerrod, I didn't know you rode the bus to class", she answered, stopping next to my seat.

"Excuse me ma'am," I said to the perfume-counter-reject who ominously blocked my path to freedom, "I need to get out."

"Well don't rush me young man. You young people today are always in such a hurry, why in my day we took our time. My advice to you is, take the time to smell the roses."

I thought this a bit odd coming from someone that could put Pepe Le Pew's nose out of commission.

After making a major production out of extricating herself and her packages from our cramped quarters, my toilet-water-reeking seatmate finally made enough room in the isle to allow me to slide out. Me being the gentleman I am, I stood by the seat until Ms Nostril-Destroyer could get seated. I even offered to hold her bags to make it easier for her but she clutched them tighter - like I might snatch her treasures away - while somehow magically running off a moving bus with the doors closed.

Turning towards the back, I saw where my fellow student and savior occupied a seat for two.

"Is this seat taken"? I said with a faux, cocksure attitude.

"Why no, I was saving it just for you", she returned with an equal amount of theatre while batting her eyelashes.

Sliding in beside her, I thought hard, trying desperately to remember her name.

She looked at me with an odd expression. I mentally squirmed at her intimate scrutiny.

"You don't remember my name, do you?"

"Ah, so you're a mind reader as well as intelligent and good looking?"

Seemingly not impressed with my flirting she retorted, "Not really. I recognized the look on your face. I get that a lot".

"A good looking lady and people forget your name," shaking my head in disbelief, "that is hard to believe."

"Judy."

"Hey Jude"

"Judy, not Jude," she admonished, with a look of 'oh not again'.

I could see I was on thin ice and tried to cover, once again, with humor, "I sit correct." I should have learned the first time.

After a semi-brief but awkward silence, Judy asked me, "Did you finish the class assignment for this week?"

"Barely," I replied, "but I didn't have a chance to proofread it."

"Let me take a look at it," she offered, "and I will let you read mine."

This seemed like a fine idea to me, so I took out my five page scene assignment and handed it to Judy.

Judy said, "Hold on just a second, let me get my computer booted up. I don't have a printed copy of my scene; I only have it on my hard drive."

"I thought we were supposed make two copies," I responded.

She simply shrugged. The hard-charging Mac blast blurted its introduction. Judy entered with her password and finally brought MS Word up on her monitor. It took her a minute to locate the file she was looking for. Finding the file and double clicked on it, voila, her assignment appeared. My lap became a desk as she slid the laptop onto it. I couldn't help thinking how much I would love to own a nice Apple computer like this one.

Handing her my rumpled up papers I quipped, "Good thing you're sitting down, this story will rock your world."

Recognizing my silliness, she answered, "I'll be the judge of that."

"Judge Judy," I continued to quip.

Judy rolled her eyes, diverting them towards my paper, she began to read my class assignment.

I really like her writing style. The more I read the deeper I became entrenched in her story. It was a paranormal love story set in New Zealand . I am not a great fan of romance novels but this one took me to a place I liked right from the very first paragraph. I didn't want to seem too excited by the story but I could barely contain myself.

Breaking into my reverie, Judy asked, "Did you mean to put 'is' twice in this sentence," as she pointed to a spot on my prose which, sure enough, said "is is".

"Oh poop," I said sheepishly, "I told you I didn't get a chance to proofread it yet. It looks like I had better read it again before class."

Smiling a dazzling smile, she offered, "If it is OK with you I'll pencil mark the typos that I find," as she reached into her bag, pulling out a mechanical pencil.

"That would be wonderful," I replied gratefully.

"By the way," I added, "did you know that I used to live in New Zealand where I conducted tours?"

I must have hit a hot button as Judy's eyes lit up like a New York skyscraper at dusk.

As luck would have it, I was treated to the best twenty minutes I could have ever imagined as Judy excitedly related the setting for her new novel. Her story involved a brother and sister, adopted at birth, which were brought to the United States as babies. Through exhaustive research, the brother had followed every lead diligently, with nothing to show for it, until he found a box in their adopted parent's attic with documents from before the adoption. It came to light that they were originally from New Zealand. In Judy's scene, the brother and sister were planning a trip to New Zealand to further track down any information regarding their birth parents.

She stopped talking for a second and just looked at me. I now knew what it was like to be gazed upon by an angel. My heart soared, the birds sang and there was blue skies, brightened by eternal sunshine. Not wanting to break this moment of bliss, I resisted saying anything, it wasn't easy. For once, I waited for her to speak first.

"Jerrod, I don't think it was an accident running into you on my way to class today. I have never been to New Zealand and so my background is sketchy at best. I cannot express how happy I am to be able to talk with you. I hope to see much more of you. You don't mind me picking your brain do you?"

I hemmed and hawed then finally stammered that yes, I was happy to have met her on the bus today and yes, I did think it was special and no, I didn't think it could have possibly been by accident.

With a squeak of the brakes and a slight lurch forward the bus came to a halt at our stop. I could see the office building that was converted into a college, looming across the street; the site of our Continuing Ed classes. Judy and I hustled to get off the bus before the driver loaded up his new passengers and was on his way.

As we both ambled along the sidewalk, chatting like long-lost friends, Judy reached over and grasped my hand. I turned to look at her. The smile she had cast towards me almost caused me to trip over my own feet. I was blown away by my good fortune. I would certainly look forward to class from now on.

The Metropolitan Transit Authority, a great way to travel. You meet all kinds of wonderful people on the bus.