I didn’t think much of it until the bus stopped again a few blocks later in front of the Seven-Eleven, and a grizzled old hippie skier got up out of the back seat, walked the length of the bus (past the open back door) and exited through the front door. The bus driver hollered at him "Hey, was the back door broken?"
"Naw, but I’m going north, man," said the hippie skier.
"Just another Park City crazy," commented the driver as he pulled away.
My wife and I looked at each other, stifling a laugh. Yeah, that makes two of ’em.