"Tizkeh b'Mitzvot," You should be rewarded with more Mitzvot

That's what I said to the bus driver as I got off his bus the other night: "Todah! (Thank you.) Chodesh Tov! (Have a good month, as it was the first of the Jewish month of Tammuz.) "Tizkeh l'Mitzvot," You should be rewarded with more Mitzvot!" (Correct phrase, l'mitzvot--thanks-Yehoshua)

Yes, it was one of those wonderful "only in Israel" experiences. They happen here more than any other place in the world.

I had been out with my daughter for dinner, something we do periodically, since she's all grown up and doesn't live at home. After we had eaten, she went one way to walk to her apartment, and I went the other way to catch a bus to my bus. It seemed like I had plenty of time, but just before I got to the bus stop I saw the bus I needed go by, and I realized that the next one may be too late.

One thing I've learned after lots of hard work on my naturally hysterical personality, is that it doesn't pay to get upset when I have no control over things. Also, I still had plenty of time. As my time got less and less, I searched my brain for all of the various travel options open to me.

• Just wait until the bus to the bus station came, and hope that my bus would be late--"waiting for me," which has happened before.
• Worse comes to worse, I could just take the very last bus. (I'd get home much later than I wanted)
• Once it became too late, I could always take a cab to the French Hill "trempiada" bus stop and catch the bus or a ride there. (expensive, but ok)

I stopped myself from getting angry for going to that stop, which only had two bus options, the one I needed and a route I wasn't familiar with. I was focused on getting the bus.

It had already gotten late enough so that even if the bus I wanted arrived immediately, I would probably miss the one home. Suddenly the "unknown" bus arrived. I climbed in and asked the driver where he was going. Pleasantly surprised, I realized that I could catch a bus to French Hill in the middle of his route, so I got a "transfer" ticket.

He suggested I catch it at Zion Square, but as we traveled, I realized that a better solution was "Kvish Echad," the road from the Old City Wall that goes to French Hill. He then confirmed that there was a stop which gave me two possibilities, and I told him that if I needed a cab from there, it wouldn't cost much.

I wasn't 100% sure which stop to get off so I asked, and he told me to wait:

"Al t'dagui, Giveret. Od chamesh dakot,
v'orid otach b'Givat Tzarftit."

Don't worry, lady, in another five minutes,
I'll let you off at French Hill.

Suddenly, I realized that we were going up the road to Mt. Scopus, past the Hyatt, the hospital, the university, and he kept repeating:

"Al t'dagui, Giveret. Od chamesh dakot, v'orid otach b'Givat Tzarftit."
Don't worry, lady, in another five minutes, I'll let you off at French Hill.

Suddenly I realized that I was the only passenger still on the bus. The lights were out, and the driver had apparently finished his official route. I felt perfectly calm, with the driver's words echoing in my ears.

Yes, everything was fine, and it took more than five minutes, but he dropped me off a two minute stroll to the French Hill bus stop, where after a good few minutes my bus arrived and took me home, straight to my door, even though it's not an "official stop."

Shhhhh! Don't tell anyone, since we don't want the drivers to get in trouble!