E-Mail This Article to a Friend Baby, you can drive my car BY TAMARA WIEDER

We took the long way home, to be sure. But we’d parked at the Langham Hotel, and so rather than join the masses hunting down taxis after the final balloon had dropped from the rafters at the FleetCenter on Thursday night, we found ourselves on DNC Bus #2, destination the Boston Harbor Hotel; the Marriott Long Wharf; the Wyndham Boston; and, finally, the Langham.

The crutches, of course, prevented me from making the scant less-than-a-mile journey on foot, though after the hours spent enduring the Fleet’s near-tropical temperatures, a little walk outside would’ve been welcome. Instead, I boarded one in a massive fleet of buses bound for hotels across the city, all filled with euphoric post-convention delegates and assorted other buttoned, stickered, and postered guests.

The first sign that this was not going to be your average Boston bus ride? Though I was at least the 10th person to board, those who’d climbed on first had taken note of my week’s golden ticket — the crutches — and left a front seat vacant for me. As the riders filed down the aisle, there was no pushing, no fighting over seats, no impatience over time spent settling bodies and belongings into place. When the driver, a white-haired man named Don, informed those waiting in line outside that the bus was full and they’d have to wait for another, there were no shouts of complaint, no surging forward to, c’mon, just cram in one more passenger.

There was, simply, giddy chatter, a low rumble of eager convention recapping, and an overwhelming sense of camaraderie seen all too infrequently in this town. As Don navigated us through Boston’s slowly filling streets, Massachusetts residents sat with Georgia delegates; women in Illinois T-shirts chatted with Missouri honored guests; and the whole lot of us sat patiently, even contentedly, during a 10-minute delay during which our bus idled in a tunnel as a police-escorted motorcade — no doubt Kerry and entourage hurrying to the Boston Pops performance at UMass Boston — sped past.

And then, as each hotel stop was announced, and riders gathered up their signs and made their way forward, an even funnier thing happened. Passengers thanked their driver. They touched his shoulder. They offered smiles and nods. And he smiled back, at every one of them.

"Have a nice night, folks," Don said.

"Thank you, sir," replied one.

"Boston’s been wonderful," said another.

"You people have been so nice to me," Don marveled.

"Come visit us in Missouri sometime," was the response.

"You never know," Don said, smiling more broadly still. "You just might see me there."