Something about Bullet’s attitude rubbed me the wrong way, so I didn’t make a big effort to hurry. It didn’t matter. Half the people in front of us did.
Travis stood up before I even put my hand on the seat.
It didn’t allow either of us to exit the bus any faster—not with everyone getting up at the same time.
Eventually we did, and instead of being in a line waiting to get out of the bus, we stood next to the door, waiting to pick up our CDPS’s, split into groups, and step into an impossible place.
Why it took as long as it did, I have no idea. We’d been told which groups we were in before we’d even gotten on the bus. Plus it was cold. Standing on a grassy plain in the month of November isn’t something I’d recommend to anyone.