I hate the bus. It is always full of malicious little munchkins screaming their heads off. Today was a particularly annoying because my bus driver decided it was funny to show up 10 min late. I try to avoid riding the bus as much as possible, so I don't even know what number it is. I know where it usually is supposed to be and what my bus driver looks like. So today the bell rings, Yay, school is over let’s all go home, right? Wrong! I walk outside trying to maneuver my way through these towering yellow beasts, and to my dismay I can’t find my bus. Seriously it’s like wandering through a pack a zebras and picking the one out that has two black stripes on its nose. Oh but there are 10 zebras in the heard that have that on their nose, so great you have narrowed it down from the 30 in the heard. Once I think it’s my bus I have to check and make sure I recognize someone on the stupid thing. Do you know how awkward it is to walking on to the wrong bus? Seriously! I usually don’t make eye contact with the bus driver getting off the bus I thought was mine but turned out to be my friend Jonny’s. Oh but I gets better, sometimes the bus drives feel like humiliating me even more in front of the whole bus,
“Hey honey, can’t find your bus?” they gloat in that mocking sugar coated voice. I feel like getting in their face and saying “No S*** Sherlock! What does it look like?” Of course I remind myself that this balding woman is just trying to be helpful, but I still think beneath their mask of concerning they are mocking me out. Then they follow up their previous question with a sardonic smile, “What’s your bus number sweetie? I can point you in the right direction.” At this point I am at wits end, I often say very politely (as is proper) “Thank you so much for you help, but I don’t know what my bus number is. Don’t worry I will find it.” The only thing left that I can do is walk of the bus embarrassed; giving the puny kids smirking in the front a glare of death. Watching their smirks slowly slide off their face when they see the annoyance in mine, never fails to make me feel a little better. I know it’s horrible, but Calvin (In Calvin and Hobbes) is so right when he thinks, “Nothing helps a bad more than spreading it!” (That was probably paraphrased. Whatever!).
But my feeling of content is short lived. Being pulled back into the throng of kids rushing to get good seats is never fun. It’s just like dodge ball in gym, but instead of squishy balls, its 50 pound kids sprinting in every direction. Getting closer and closer to the end of the line of buses, I give up looking for my bus and try to find one of my neighbors. And then, Voila! There she is; my neighbor that I had a crush on in kindergarten. It’s the only life line that can get me home; I’ll take it!
Stalking is a rather simple art form. In a crowd, the average person won’t even notice a terrible stalker like me. I’m not discrete at all, I simply follow like 10 steps behind her; there’s nothing to it. Finally she gets to the end of buses and stops. Cursing silently at being caught, I wait for the worst, but she just stands there! Eavesdropping is even easier then stalking, simply put in ear buds and pretend you are listening to music; a slight bob of the head, maybe a light tapping of the hand, smoothes it over perfectly. It’s ok to have a glazed look and stare at an inanimate object, but really what I was doing was trying to see what was happening in my peripheral vision. I saw her friend walk up to her and that’s when I heard about our bus being late. That nearly made me lose it; I hate horrible days. The whole day was filled with bother some things; a stupid English class, or my ex girl friend or the auditorium being locked. Hearing this, along with the daunting idea of a bus ride full of noisy kids for the next 30 min almost pushed me over the edge. I was practically frozen by the time the bus arrived. I can’t even imagine how cold the ‘cool’ girl next to me was in her cute pink sweater. I don’t really care about the way I look. It makes so much more sense to dress comfortable even if that means wearing a bulky winter coat when it’s cold outside! The actual ride home was pretty dull, I felt like punching this 6th grader in the face and then I kind of zoned out and fell asleep. Luckily, I woke up before we arrived at my house, thank you, annoying kid for screaming at the top of your lungs.
I dread the next time I have to ride the bus again; this is why I have a driver’s license. Not to drive hot chicks around but to avoid the treacherous bus ride.