It's not my fault

Walking towards the sheltered bus stop I see a small Asian man with a moustache whom I vaguely recognise though can't quite place. He mimes "hello" to me as I squint my eyes forward to him racking my memory for his face. I raise my brow to him as not to be rude then take my place in out two-man queue for the bus. I hear a jingling and look toward the direction of the bus, a man approaches with a briefcase-looking-carryon and a large set of keys. His pace hastens as he approaches as a bus headed for the centre appears from the corner, standing in the queue myself and unknown friend so not raise out arms to alight it. The jingling rises and the man raises his arm to the driver. Although his action is witnessed the driver does not have enough space to slow and 'park'. I look into the distance avoiding eye contact feeling that somehow, I and 'friend' are to blame. I turn to my ‘friend' with bottom lip raised showing a sheepish eye, he raises his lip in accordance knowing somehow that we share blame... I cannot place his face though submit this encounter to memory.