The Goose That Roared
My subway train came to a gradual stop on the bridge over the Humber River, at Old Mill station. The horn sounded, and the train inched forward, then stopped. The horn sounded a number of times, then the train inched forward again and stopped. Then the horn again, even more than before.
The PA clicked on, and the weariest-sounding engineer I have ever heard said, "We're going to be a little delayed this morning, folks. There's a Canada Goose standing on the tracks, and it's refusing to move." She had a total I-cannot-believe-I-am-making-this-announcement voice.
We sat there for five minutes, the only sound the occasional blast of the train's horn. At last the PA clicked back on.
"If you look to your left, you can see the goose flyyyyyyyying away, down to the water. ...thank you for your patience."
I have some of the weirdest here's-why-I'm-late stories at my office.
The PA clicked on, and the weariest-sounding engineer I have ever heard said, "We're going to be a little delayed this morning, folks. There's a Canada Goose standing on the tracks, and it's refusing to move." She had a total I-cannot-believe-I-am-making-this-announcement voice.
We sat there for five minutes, the only sound the occasional blast of the train's horn. At last the PA clicked back on.
"If you look to your left, you can see the goose flyyyyyyyying away, down to the water. ...thank you for your patience."
I have some of the weirdest here's-why-I'm-late stories at my office.