Tuesday, October 31, 2006

The tale of a bus-challenged high school student.

Not for the first time, I've been forced to walk home when I could have been happily sitting behind my desk in school and flipping through my books...or doing whatever it is a high school student does.

(Procedure is repeated.)

Reluctantly I pull myself away from the warm covers and climb down my bed.

Glancing at the clock, I felt pretty pleased with myself for being able to wake up early this time round. It is only 6:30 in the morning as I lock the front door of my house and head for the bus station.

Upon approaching the bus station, I see some students from my school. I nod politely to them – we aren’t really on close terms considering the fact they’re in a lower form.

*Sits and waits*

Two empty buses appear on the horizon, each of them trying to overtake the other.

“Hey, wait, wait for me!!!”

The busses roar pass.

*Waits again impatiently*

A couple of guys from the school next to mine walked up and sat down on the bench. Another girl I don’t know(wearing my school’s badge)emerges from the darkness and begins flirting with them. Her flirting with them is almost as disgraceful as the way the boys flirt back. (Importance of Being Earnest?)

Eventually, another bus appears. It is packed.

“Hey, I don’t mind sitting on the roof at all…really…just stop, please!!!”

The piece of cold, unfeeling metal ignores me and drives on without stopping.

*Sits back down and glares indignantly at the taillights*

The sun is beginning to show his face on the side of our planet. Oh no. I’m going to be horribly late for school and it wasn’t even my fault this time.

“Did you hear that a lot of busses broke down yesterday?” A lady next to me asked her friend in a loud voice.

At long last the bus I’ve been waiting for arrives.

Thankfully, I step up onto the first step of the bus…and remain there. That’s how packed it was. It was like being packed into a squashed can of sardines. My face is squashed into somebody’s chest and my hand was clinging onto the pole for dear life as I look at the roads. The doors aren’t closed – if they were I wouldn’t be on the bus. After doing a spot of worrying, I manage to tear my eyes away from the fast moving ground and got a shock.

The bus is moving in the opposite direction of my school! But…I am sure this is the right bus!!! Hesitating a little, I shout out to the driver over the heads of numerous passengers.


The passengers shoot me a dirty look. Well, how else was the driver supposed to hear me over the traffic sounds outside?


“Does this bus go to(Inserts bus-stop in front of my school)…?”


I wonder briefly if the driver’s vocabulary consists of only one word.

“But…we’re headed for the South! (My school is in the North.)”


“…Uhhh…how long will it take to reach my destination?”

Some of the passengers are now giving me the evil eye. Well, I'm SORRY, but it is very difficult to hang from a pole for dear life and conduct a sane conversation with the driver when I am practically half a step away from getting off the bus. Or rather, falling off the bus. You'd think they'd show some sympathy. So I ignored them.


Well…it was good to know the driver could say something else other than ‘Yeah’.

“Depends on???” I’m starting to get desperate as the bus moves towards the official animal shelter which is in the complete opposite direction of my school.

“The traffic.”

I’m sorry, but I so don’t get him. Is he going to make a U-turn, pass the bus station where I got on and head for my school eventually? How long is eventually? YEARS?

Well, I’m pretty sure it won’t take years. Maybe a couple of hours that I don’t have.

I press the stop bell, take half a step and got off the bus. I start to walk in the direction of the original bus station I’d been at, which is right outside my house.
*Stomp stomp stomp*
*Trudge trudge trudge*
*Drag drag drag*
*Mumble mumble mumble*
*Stomp stomp stomp*
*Trudge trudge trudge*
When I reach the bus-stop, I look at the time. 7:30. I didn’t sit down and wait for another of those dratted contraptions we call buses. Oh no. It was as if I'd run a marathon. I dragged my feet around the corner and went home.

Seriously…one could pop a blood vessel. And this isn’t even the first time. I can’t wait till I get my driving licence. In the meantime, I’m stuck with those wonderful, fickle inventions that we call “buses.”

Excuse me.

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