Jumping to the Wrong Conclusion

                            By Doris Fisher


          Several years   ago, commuting to and from  Los Angeles, I had to
          take several buses.   One  night, after  a very long  day, I  was
          waiting for  my final bus at  a transfer point where  several bus
          lines came by.   When a bus stopped and the  door opened, I would
          step  forward, lean in a bit and ask  for the number of the line.
          On  this particular  occasion in  question, every  line but  mine
          stopped and the drivers  all told me the  number of the line.   I
          was tired of waiting.  Finally, a bus stopped; the door opened; I
          leaned  forward,  asked "What  number?"   I got  no response.   I
          stepped  closer, placed  my cane  on  the first  step, leaned  in
          farther, and repeated "What number?"  Still no response.  Now I'm
          getting mad.   I raised my voice and repeated my question.  Still
          no  answer.    Well,  I  was thinking  some  very,  very  hostile
          thoughts,  wondering what  was the  matter with  that so  and so.
          Then I hear movement towards the door.  And I'm thinking, what is
          wrong with this person?  Then I sense someone leaning  towards me
          and I hear  this whisper:   It's the 9,  century and imperial;  I
          have laryngitis.  Needless to  say, I hurriedly withdrew my cane,
          and profusely apologized for my unspoken thoughts.
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