On time for my execution

The last day of school, a chance to wish all my regular Coral Springs High students a good vacation. Rainy season's drizzly, damp overcast was in full swing that morning on the 34. The weather was primed for misery.

The kids are in school, the grown ups are going to work. At the first stop after turning onto Coral Ridge Drive, a man boarded with his McD's bag. His short, gray-flecked beard suited the occasion.
   'How's it goin' out there?' I asked as he escaped the precipitation.
"Rough, rough. It's a dog eat dog world."
   'Hang in there, things will turn around.'
"I work in a shop painting metal, then we put it in a hot oven to cook and I just don't like it."
   'Is it cooking you?'
"Yeah."
   'There are other opportunities, you don't have to stay there forever.'
"Exactamundo! I'm glad you have a positive outlook."
   'Well, I don't wanna be miserable all day.'

On the flip trip, I pick up the regular who runs the pickle shop at Festival Flea Market. He goes over his picks for the NBA playoffs, and reminds me to come by for some pickles.

At Turtle Creek, a 20-something guy is waiting.
"Can I have a ride to the next bus stop?"
That section of Sample has the 441 overpass, creating a long stretch between bus stops. He's a sociable sort and is eager to talk about his morning.
"Man, I had a court date for some fines and was late. I don't want to be on time for my execution, I want to be late."
   'That makes sense.'
"My family don't understand and they tell me to be early. I just say I got this."