When I was really small I didn't mind the cold all that much. For years, I was just a normal kid who liked all kinds of weather.
Then one day, a few weeks after moving to an apartment in West Virginia, the bus came for the first day of my brother's and my new school.
There were about four other kids at the bus stop with us who got on the bus, but when we tried to get on the bus driver stopped us. He said our bus was not this bus and that our bus would be coming later.
So we waited. In the snow and ice. For about 3 whole hours.
No other bus EVER came.
So we finally went home. We called our mother and told her what happened. She later called the school and complained to them, then said it wouldn't happen again, so just get on the bus tomorrow.
So the next day, we stood outside and waited. Oddly, the children who'd been at that bus stop the day before were not there today. Not one of them.
But the bus still stopped at the bus stop. And sat there. He didn't even open the damn doors, even though we were standing right there.
My brother seemed at a loss at to what he should do, but I pounded my fist on the door. The bus driver opened the door. I yelled at him,
"IS THIS THE BUS FOR THE MIDDLE SCHOOL?!"
He said yes.
"THEN IT'S OUR BUS!"
Then I stormed on the bus, my brother following.
Moral of this story.
That bus driver.
Fuck that guy.
