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 the transport safely. There is a conductor who collects fares, checks passes, smooths feelings, answers questions, and moves up and down the aisle like a stewardess/steward who doesn’t pass out pillows or drinks. On any route, there might be a few stops, or dozens of stops. This Termas bus is well marked and 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 take 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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