To escape Athens’ heat and crowds, I decided to go on a three-island cruise. A bus picked me up from my hotel. When I got on, a woman handed me a small slip of paper with the number 4 on it. “You’ll need this,” she said, “when the cruise is over. It’s how you’ll find your bus.”
After our boat docked at the port, passengers disembarked and walked to the parking lot to find their buses. Each one had a large cardboard sign with a number visible through the windshield.
As I got closer to my bus, I overheard a woman talking to her young son. “Here’s our bus–number four.”
“That’s not right, Mommy. The sign says ‘No 4.”
Notes from the cupcake rescue league 