The little old lady seated herself right behind the bus driver.
Every ten minutes or so she’d pipe up, “Have we reached Oriskany Falls yet, sonny?”
“No, lady, not yet; I’ll let you know,” he replied, time after time.
The hours passed, the old woman kept asking for Oriskany Falls, and finally the little town came into view.
Sighing with relief, the driver slammed on the brakes, pulled over and called out, “This is where you get out, lady.”
“Is this Oriskany Falls?”
“YES!” he bellowed. “Get out!”
“Oh, I’m going all the way to Albany, sonny,” she explained sweetly.
“It’s just that my daughter told me that when we got to Oriskany Falls, it’ll be time take my blood pressure pill.”
