The Girl

She sat on the examination table and wished she was any place else. It was cold as ice and the thin hospital gown was making her shiver. There was an IV hanging out of her arm. A nurse was taking two vials of blood and she felt like it was going to be an eternity before she could lie back down. The smell of chemicals burned in her nose and the bustling around of hospital staff kept her from relaxing. She wished she was somewhere else. The admitting nurse had asked questions, the tech had asked questions, the two doctors had asked questions. She had answered each of them as best she could, but she was not sure of her answers. They needed to run some tests, they needed an answer. The blood test would tell them. She lay back on the hospital bed and curled up as much as she could. She pulled the warmed blanket up to her chin and waited for the results. Cold and chills shook her body and shame and guilt gripped her heart. How could she have gotten herself in this mess? Why, why did she compromise herself that way? She knew it wouldn't be a good thing, and now she was living out the proof. What if they found something when they ran the tests? What if . . .? The thought was too terrible to complete. Her life would be devastated, her dreams would be shattered, her whole existence would be in question. The time moved slowly as she waited for someone, anyone, to come back and tell her what was going on. She tried to conquer the fear that was welling up inside her, tried to calm herself and keep from panicking.
Finally, they came. The tests had come back negative. Relief washed over her, but it was not a soothing relief. For every wave of relief there was a wave of shame that came with it. They ran some more tests to make sure everything else was alrigh. The IV came out and she slowly put her clothes back on. She wished she was somewhere else, anywhere else, and that her circumstances were different. She carefully walked out of the hospital and drove home. She took some pain killers and crawled into bed. She pulled the covers tightly over her head and prayed that sleep would come. Then she would be somewhere else, at least for a little while, and maybe, perhaps she could escape the humiliation and shame for a least a small amount of time.
Bad decisions will always come back to haunt us whether in little ways or in big, sooner or later. Living for the moment is not always the best decision and will most assuredly affect you for many moments later to come.

Urban Bus Adventure: Falling Asleep On the Bus

It was the end of the semester and I was tired. I had pulled one all-nighter the night before last and I had only had 4 hours of sleep last night. I was riding home after 4 hours of classes. It was sunset when I stepped on to the bus. My ride home was going to be about 30 minutes long with the evening rush hour traffic. I settled in a seat next to a window facing the west and I marveled at the beautiful colors filling the sky. The oranges, pinks, purples, and reds were a sight to behold. I didn't want to stop looking at the amazing display of colors but my eyelids were growing heavy. I leaned my head against the window and shut my eyes. I would just rest them for a bit. Soon I was in another world, drifting off to the realm of dreams. I was wrapped in the warmth and vibrant colors of the sunset. I was filled with wonder at display of the mountains and way the sun fell behind them. I was certainly no longer on the bus. I was taking a quick trip to a far-off place that would lend me momentary rest and a chance to refresh my weary self.
"Excuse me, excuse me. Young lady." I stirred and then quickly opened my eyes. It was dark outside. There was no one on the bus and the bus driver was standing in the aisle looking at me. I jumped a bit, unsure of what was happening. Was I still dreaming? Was I still really on the bus? Then it hit me - I was just waking up from my "quick" nap. "Oh! I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed. The driver quickly reassured me, "It's ok. It's not a problem. I saw that you had fallen asleep so I just waited to drop you at your stop on my way back. I would let you keep sleeping except this is the last route for the night and I am headed back to the garage."
"Oh, no. That's ok. Thank you for waking me. I didn't mean to fall asleep. And thank you for bringing me to my stop."
I gathered my things rather sheepishly and stepped off the bus. I had fallen dead asleep and hadn't noticed that everyone else on the bus had gotten off, nor that I had passed my stop a few miles back. Thank goodness the driver was familiar with my route and knew where to drop me off. In fact, he had saved me a trip across the street my letting me sleep until he reached my stop again on the return trip. I couldn't believe I had fallen asleep like that! I would definitely get some rest tonight. I didn't really want to make a habit of falling asleep on the bus.

Urban Bus Adventure: The Cheerful Bus Driver

It was April in Tucson. That meant it was beautiful outside and though I didn't particularly wish to be standing at the bus stop at 7:20 in the morning, it was bearable because it was spring time and everything was more enjoyable. The bus arrived right on schedule and I boarded. The bus driver was particularly cheerful that morning and greeted me, "Good morning, young lady! How are you this lovely morning?" I smiled at him and responded that I was fine and took a seat at the front of the bus. The bus pulled away from the bus stop and seemed to bounce along the street as cheerful as its driver. We stopped at several more stops and the driver continued to greet each boarding passenger with a bright "hello!" and bade the exiting passengers a bubbly farewell. I couldn't help but chuckle at the driver. He was rather amusing! As a rule, I am not generally a morning person and I do not enjoy people trying to hold conversations with me, but this man was different. He was so easy-going and happy that I couldn't help but find myself engaged in a conversation with him. We talked for most of the trip with him stopping only to greet new passengers or well-wish those leaving. We had gotten about half-way through the trip and I was beginning to wonder at this driver. How could he remain so cheerful and excited about the day and the passengers? Surely he wouldn't remain this way for the entire trip. Surely he would run out of things to say and greetings to give. One of the things I found most entertaining about him was his ability to greet each passenger with a different greeting. The man was an elderly gentleman and so some of his greetings were rather outdated or aged ways of saying hello; but I didn't mind. I thought it added to his charm and the hilarity of his persona. It was absolutely entertaining to watch him and the reactions of the passengers to him. There was one stop we came to and a woman got on the bus. The bus driver greeted her, "Top of the morning to you, ma'am!" She seemed a but taken-aback but quickly responded, "Well, good morning to you to! How are you this morning?" The bus driver replied, "Perfectly peachy poopsie!" I just about fell off my seat. I wanted to laugh SO badly! My sides were shaking from inner laughter and my mouth was twitching in an attempt to keep from smiling too broadly. The woman chuckled a bit and started to find a place to sit on the bus. The bus driver then turned back to me and our on-going conversation. I was still having a hard time controlling the urge to laugh and the driver noticed the smirk on my face. He laughed a little laugh and then winked at me. "There's nothing like having someone greet you in the morning with a smile and a kind word." A few minutes later I was at my destination and got up to exit the bus. The driver said goodbye and promised to see me later. Apparently he was the new driver for my route. Well, at least I would have an entertaining bus ride every morning!

Urban Bus Adventures: The Drunk and the Kid

He stumbled onto the bus weaving and swaying as he staggered up the steps and attempted to pay his bus fare. He was grabbing around in his coat and his pockets looking for money. "It was just here! I know it was. Hang on bus driver, I know I have my money. Just give me a minute." The bus driver eyed the man. This passenger certainly wasn't your average well-kept, wits-about-him citizen. My seat right behind the bus driver gave a front row seat to the goings on of this bus drama. The passenger wreaked of alcohol and his slurred speech gave away the number of drinks he'd recently had. His clothes were tattered and looked like they were two sizes too big for him. His long hair was matted and his face was unshaven. There was a film of dirt that covered his skin and dark smudges covered his shirt and jeans. He was a pitiful sight if ever I saw one. We were still sitting still - the bus driver was still debating whether to let the man keep searching for money he obviously didn't have or to kick him off the bus and keep going.
"Here, sir" I turned at the sound of someone behind me talking. I saw a kid, maybe 14, getting up from his seat. He was walking towards the front of the bus with a dollar in his hand. He inserted the fare and the man stared at him with a dumbfound look on his face. The boy immediately turned around and headed back towards the back of the bus. The bus lurched forward and the drunk man grabbed at a rail in an effort to steady himself. The bus driver looked at him and then focused all his attention on the street in front of him. "Sir, please sit down." The man looked at the driver as though he was dazed. Then he looked around him and realizing there was a seat directly behind him he sat down.
At the next stop the drunk man got off the bus and stumbled down the street. Where he was heading was not clear and it didn't seem to matter. He was going to wander around aimlessly until the liquor wore off and then he would find some more to fill himself and the cycle would start over. The bus driver shook his head and started the bus forward again. The next stop we pulled into the kid who had payed the bus fare stepped off the bus, thanking the bus driver as he did so. The bus driver acknowledged him and then turned to me and said, "That kid probably thinks he did that guy a favor, but trust me, that man would have been better off left on that sidewalk where he first got on. He rides these buses day in and day out and never goes anywhere or does much of anything except get drunk."
I thought about this for a minute and then asked, "Where does he get the money to ride the bus if he doesn't work a job?" The bus driver shrugged and said, "He plays on the sympathy of people, just like he played that kid to get him to pay his bus fare."

Tears On the Bus

I climbed on the bus, cellphone smashed to my ear, trying to juggle my bus pass and my bag as well as trying to make sure the phone didn't fall. My sister was talking on the other end. The despair was rising in my stomach and making its way to chest. I managed to pull my bus pass through the machine and started making my way to the back of the bus. I was still trying to listen to what my sister had to say but I was slowly growing less willing to bend my ear. Her accusations came like harsh slaps on the face. Her expectations seemed insurmountable. I was speaking in hushed strained tones as I tried desperately to explain myself, to reason with her, to tell her how I was feeling and what I was going through. She wasn't listening. It was like talking to a brick wall. She kept talking until I finally had enough and halted the conversation by telling her I didn't want to talk anymore. There were only a couple people on the bus, but they were staring at me as though I was an alien with three heads. I had found a place at the back of the bus - a window seat. I was trying to speak in even more hushed tones but the frustration was rising and I could tell I wasn't succeeding at being inconspicuous. My sister kept talking, bringing up painful memories from the past, trying to say something to convince me to see things her way. Nothing mattered but what my family thought. What about my thoughts? What about my dreams? What about my desires and how I saw things? What about my life? When did I get to start living my life and quit living everyone else's? When would my family see me as me and not a reproduction of themselves? When would I get to be my own person and be loved and respected for who I was rather than constantly being forced to conform, to fit a mold that I didn't fit?
The cell phone was growing warm in my hand. My head hurt from listening, from thinking. The desperation, the hurt, the frustration rose as tears in my eyes, spilling down my cheeks. Now there were quite a few more people on the bus and a couple had seated themselves right behind me and across the aisle from me. I was embarrassed at my red, blotchy face and the tears that were still tumbling down my face; I couldn't stop the flow. It was all I could do to keep the sobs from escaping my mouth; resisting the tears was out of the question. My sister had finally said everything she wanted to say. "I love you. We can talk some more later. Bye." As she said goodbye I mumbled something and closed my phone. I turned so that I was completely facing the window. I had another 15 minute ride until I could escape the wondering probing eyes of those on the bus around me.
It was raining outside. The raindrops fell on the window and ran down it making small streams. I leaned my head against the glass and let the tears fall. I didn't care anymore who saw me. They would just have to wonder and stare. I had held it in too long; there was no resistance left. I knew the tears wouldn't fix anything but they were there and I couldn't hold them back. It was still raining outside. The gray clouds and stormy atmosphere felt like a picture of me, what I looked like inside. It was raining outside, raining inside.

Urban Bus Adventure: Counseling on the Bus

It was December, finals weeks, and I was tired from a long day of exams. I had been sitting at the bus stop for over 15 minutes waiting for the bus to arrive. When it finally got there (it was late) I noticed it was already well-packed with passengers. This particular bus route was very popular and there were very few times when the bus was empty. I looked around me and noticed there were multiple passengers boarding the bus with me and no one was getting off. "Oh, boy," I thought, "this is going to be an interesting ride." I stood at the front of the bus and scanned the rows for a free seat. I saw one toward the middle of the bus. A window seat -- Thank God! I loved looking out the window when riding the bus, especially when it was over-crowded. It acted as my escape from the craziness around me and it helped me look preoccupied so people would be less inclined to strike up a conversation with me. I quickly made my way to the seat wanting to ensure I didn't lose it to any of my fellow boarding passengers. I slid into the seat and settled my backpack on my lap. It was rather cool outside and I was thankful for the warmth of the bus and happy I had found a seat. There were several passengers that were less fortunate and they were standing, holding on to the overhead railing. The bus doors closed and we lurched forward - we were on our way. Withing a few minutes we were arriving at another stop and there were, again, multiple people waiting to board. As the people filed onto the bus I couldn't help but wonder where they were going to sit or even stand for that matter. There were no seats left and the aisle was even beginning to be very crowded. A man and woman, apparently in deep conversation, stepped onto the bus. They appeared to know each other rather well and the conversation went well beyond the usual bus banter that took place on a regular basis during most bus rides. The man seemed to be very upset about something and the woman was listening very sympathetically. They started to walk down the aisle looking for a place to positions themselves as the bus began to pull forward again. They stopped just behind me, continuing their conversation as though they weren't on a bus full of people.
Man: So I had to spend all that time getting a hold of the doctor's office just to for them to turn around and tell me they couldn't treat me until the insurance company agreed to pay for it. Can you believe it? I was outraged! I mean, I really needed help and they were doing very little to help me. Last I checked the medical profession was about helping people.
Woman: Well, things are really complicated these days. There are lots of rules and regulations for everyone to follow.
Man: I know, but how sad is that! I mean I needed help! You can't imagine the emotional strain this whole ordeal has put on me, not to mention the pain and agony from all my physical problems.
The conversation went on like this for at least ten minutes with the man painting an ever-increasingly horrifying picture of his life. He was becoming very emotional and the woman seemed to be growing more and more unsure of how to respond to him.
The bell rang and the bus pulled to a stop, opening its doors to let the passengers get off. The conversation between the man and woman was still going on but the woman was trying to politely excuse herself so she could get off the bus. Then it dawned on me that she didn't really know the man. They must have met at the bus stop waiting to catch the bus. "How strange," I thought, "for him to be discussing such personal matters with someone he doesn't know."
The woman managed to escape the conversation and the bus and the man found a free seat right behind me. The bus pulled away from the stop and I heard the man address the person in the seat next to him. "Can you believe the way people in the health care industry treat their patients?" I looked at my window to see if I could see the person's reflection in the dark glass. No luck. I'd have to settle for listening again. A woman's voice responded with some kind words for him. This started another round of stories about the man's problems and his treatment. The woman was very sympathetic and listened attentively, even offering encouragement when the man seemed very distraught. I couldn't help but find all this very funny. I was beginning to giggle in my seat. The man's stories sounded more and more dramatic and ridiculous all at the same time! After a few minutes the man had worked himself into a sort of emotional frenzy and was openly crying. The woman was trying desperately to comfort him without over-stepping her bounds. Finally the man burst out, "And you know what the worst part is? They won't even have the common decency to let you decide when your life should end. People in some big building somewhere decide how and when I should live my life! I mean, I could put myself out of all my misery, but I'm not allowed to. They won't help me heal myself and they won't let me kill myself! What is a person to do?!!! Seriously! It is such a travesty!"
The woman really didn't know how to handle this one at all. She floundered around looking for words to say. She tried to assure the man that killing himself probably wasn't the best answer, but the more she insisted the more emotional he became. By this time I was laughing so hard on the inside my sides hurt and I was trying so desperately not to show it. I didn't want to offend the man but I couldn't help but wonder why he was talking about these things with people on the bus! After a few more minutes the woman informed the man that she had to get off the bus but she was sure he would be alright and that things would get better. He sniffled and thanked her as she gathered her things and started towards the door. She kept looking back as though she was worried of what the man would do. He sat there with a very dejected look on his face muttering to himself about all his woes.
At the next stop the man pulled himself up from his seat and stood in the aisle for a moment. "Well," he said, "I guess I must keep on living until either I die or someone helps me out of my misery."
He then walked down the aisle, down the bus steps and onto the sidewalk. The bus pulled away and I looked at the man who was sitting across from me. We exchanged bewildered looks and sort of chuckled. He leaned across the aisle towards me and said, "That man needs to get some counseling."
"Yes," I agreed, "And not on the bus!"

A Sight to Behold

There he was, standing on the street corner as though he was the most normal person in the world. Having been taught that it was impolite to stare I tried several times to avert my gaze, but to no avail. I could not stop looking at this, this . . .I don't know what to call him. He was ridiculous, silly and bazaar all wrapped up in one person. He was tall and gangly with his long skinny legs poured into stone-washed bell-bottomed jeans that had bright pink lace and sequin patterns down the front of them. The jeans stopped midway between his calves and his ankles showing pink socks that disappeared inside light brown roller skates with baby pink wheels. He was wearing a fitted pink shirt and a brown jacket that hugged his torso and was half unzipped. His long, severely thin face was accentuated by bright blue 1950's style sunglasses and his long, dark hair was slicked back in a ponytail. He shuffled around on the corner, looking down at his feet and skating in circles as he waited for the light to turn green. His mannerisms were very much in the style of a junior high girl out for an afternoon romp. The man was a walking charade and I found myself wondering at why someone would feel the need to express themselves that way. I couldn't stop looking at him. The light finally turned green and as I started to pull forward the pink roller skater shoved off from the curb gliding across the crosswalk, swaying from side to side in what looked like an attempt to mimic the way girls swing their hips. I couldn't even laugh at the man. My only response was to shake my head in bewilderment and wonder why.