City buses in Uruguay feature a team.

There is a driver who keeps the bus on the road, makes stops, stays out of accidents, and gets people on and off. There is a conductor who collects fares, checks passes, smooths feelings, answers questions, and moves up and down the aisle like a stewardess that doesn’t pass out pillows or drinks.

On any route, there might be a few stops, or dozens of stops. The Termas bus is well marked and is around and down and around the corner from the Los Cedros Hotel. Though the bus is loud and smells like exhaust there aren’t chickens or sheep and the passengers are like me – wanting to get where they need to go cheaply and safely.

When you  think of teams you think of Pancho and Cisco, Tarzan and Jane, Crosby and Hope, Siskel and Ebert, Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris.

I don’t know these bus guys names but they take time to ask where I am going and get me off at the right corner, two walking blocks from my hotel. 

Riding the bus in Uruguay is not unpleasant.

I would ride them just to be going somewhere, and have.

It is sweet that these working men took the time to get me off at my right stop

Good happens in the world, but mostly goes unappreciated and under reported.

 

 

 

 

 

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