Drivers and Drivers.
Last year, the autumn-winter daughter studied for an exchange semester in Paris. I went to Spain for the weekend in the Basque Country in Bilbao. On the way back at an interim stop between Bilbao and Paris, he asks drivers (two of them on long-haul routes) if they will soon get to Paris. They have round eyes: we’re not going to Paris, we’re going to London. We will not go to Paris. Now the daughter has round eyes: going back in the night, confused the bus. Go here and get to Paris in the middle of the night? The drivers say: we will soon have a shift, another couple will go to London, and we will be taken to Paris by minivan. Do you want with us? Where did we not disappear? I went to some town. Watermen ate dinner/breakfast, smoked/pizzed, waiting for a minivan, and so on. Then I drove in the night with a bunch of men (except those drivers were from other routes). But! The Surprise! He arrived in Paris safely and safely. They even brought him straight home.
These are the drivers, not the drivers.