Kære Emre,

You have to hear about Tuesday. A mother boards at Nørrebro station with nine children — nine, Emre, I counted twice — all in paper hats, all singing, and a cake box tied with string that she holds like it contains a sleeping baby. Birthday party gone mobile. The whole bus is theirs within one stop.

Now, the bus has opinions. Somewhere around Bispebjerg the cabin voice announces, very politely, that "elevated passenger volume" has been detected and would we like the ride mode set to calm. I said no thank you. The children said no thank you louder. It lowered the lights anyway, so the whole thing looked like a nightclub for eight-year-olds, and one boy told me this was the best bus in Denmark. I have thirteen years of clean service records. That is the review I am keeping.

Later the system logged the trip as "suboptimal comfort." Fine. Let it write its report. I gave a child a paper hat and it gave me a spreadsheet.

Ayşe says you must come in September. Bring the good coffee, not the airport kind.

din bror Y.

PS — I still have the hat. It is small. It does not fit. I keep it in the cab.

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