If my life were scripted, it would have run something like this:
The bus driver finally just pulled away in exasperation. But she continued to say it. She said it to the bus driver. She said it to her baby. She said it to herself. She said it to no one in particular. She did not say it directly to me, because I have my talker glare down pat. For all I know, she's still saying it.
So, consider yourself warned, random very repetitive lady (since you obviously read my blog). You better not try to pull that stunt again if the busninja is around.