Urban Bus Adventure: Late

I was late, VERY late. My duties at my first job had kept me later than usual and now I was running down the street towards the bus stop. I hadn't even stopped to collect myself as I usually did before catching the bus. I had grabbed my bag and started the two minute trek down the hill and across the street. As I was running towards the bus stop I was looking around to see if I could catch a glimpse of the bus to make sure it hadn't left me. No, thankfully it had not come early. I reached the stop and sat on the bench. I checked my watch. I was O.K. The bus should be here any minute. I should be on time for class. What a relief. I sat there and waited. One minute passed. Two minutes passed. The bus came into view, but from the opposite direction. Oh no! He was late. Well, we usually had a couple of minutes to spare so I reasoned that we would probably be alright. Then, the unthinkable happened. The bus pulled into the McDonald's up the hill and the driver got out. "What is he doing?" I thought. The driver stretched a little and then sauntered in the McDonald's. "GREAT!" I thought, "He's going to get lunch and we are already late!" I began to pace around the bus stop. I checked my watch every few seconds. Two minutes passed, and then five minutes. With each full revolution of the second hand on my watch my stomach began to grow tighter and tighter. "What was this guy doing????? Didn't he know we were already late and he was making us even later?" After ten minutes the driver emerged from McDonald's and started the bus up. "FINALLY," I thought. By this time there was no way I was going to make it to class on time. The bus pulled up to the stop a full fifteen minutes late. I was fuming. I wanted so badly to say something to the driver but my manners kept me in check. The long, painfully slow ride to my destination did nothing to help the situation. The driver seemed to be totally oblivious to the fact that the bus was supposed to run on a schedule. I cannot express the frustration I felt when he finally arrived at my destination twenty-five minutes late. It took everything inside me to thank him for driving me as I exited the bus. I wanted to say, "Thanks for making me late," but I refrained. Thanks to that bus ride I was not only unprepared from my late day at work but I was late for my class. My rapid steps towards my classroom were fueled by anger. I hoped that would never happen again. I am sad to say that over the following three weeks that driver was my regular bus driver and he insisted on following the same lunch routine every day. It goes without saying that I had no great love for him or his performance as my bus driver.

IWH: The Call

We were all very young. I was one of the youngest and I was about four years old. The oldest of the kids were ten and eleven years old. It was a typical day in the nursery for us. That meant there twenty to thirty kids being watched by one supervisor. We were outside playing in the yard and the day had been pretty uneventful up to that point. The older kids had gotten together and were playing games and the younger kids were roaming about playing with whatever captured their curiosity. After being outside for a while one of the older kids, one who was known for mischief making, asked our supervisor if he could go inside and use the bathroom. He was gone for a short while and returned without anyone paying much attention. Within ten minutes we heard sirens come screaming down the street, and much to everyone's surprise, two fire trucks pulled into our driveway. Firemen jumped out and came rushing around to the back of the house wanting to know from our supervisor where the fire was. The supervisor looked absolutely bewildered and asked the firemen what they were talking about. She wasn't aware of there being a fire. The kids all gaped at the firemen, jaws dropped and eyes as big as saucers. The head fireman informed her that they had received a call saying that the house was on fire and there were a bunch of kids inside who couldn't get out. The supervisor again said that she didn't know of any fire and that all the kids were outside with her. It soon became very clear to the firemen that there was no fire anywhere and someone had made a prank call to the department. Our supervisor seemed absolutely mortified and kept apologizing to the firemen. The firemen were not happy at all and had all the kids gather together. They asked who had made the call. No one said a word, no one came forward. There was a long pause as the firemen stared at the kids and the kids stared back. After a few moments, the head fireman broke the silence by informing us that making a prank call to the fire department was a criminal offense and we could get in a lot of trouble for doing something like that. He asked us if we all understood how serious the situation was and there was one giant nod from the group of kids. The firemen packed up their gear and headed out. Still shocked, the supervisor shuffled us inside and quickly got on the phone. The next thing we knew we were all bussed to the church and filed into the main sanctuary. We were lined up at the front. There were several elders and parents there and the pastor's wife, whom we referred to as "Grandma", was there as well. She wanted to talk to us. She sat on a bench in front of us and asked us one by one what had happened. No one seemed to know. She then told us that they had spoken with the fire department and the dispatcher had told them it was a child who had made the phone call. All the adults wanted to know who that child was. There was silence from the kids. Not one of us said a word. "Grandma" then informed us that the lead elder was going to go down to the station and listen to the recording of the phone call. He would then know who had made the call. She assured us that it would be better if whoever had called just came forward now because they would eventually be found out anyway. At this point one of the youngest of the kids began to tremble and he walked towards "Grandma" and with the most pathetic voice said, "Grandma, I din't call 1 1 9." "Grandma" laughed and said she was sure of that. Several of the adults were fighting the smiles that were creeping onto their faces. The little boys earnest plea was so innocent and somehow in the midst of a tense situation it breathed some relief. There never was a confession and the adults had to come to their own conclusions about who made the call. Amongst us kids we had some pretty good ideas about who had made that call, but we certainly weren't talking to anybody about it. This would be one of those days that went down in infamy at IWH.

The Return Of the Interesting Guy

I posted last year about a strange guy I saw on a street corner. He was wearing pink roller skates and ridiculous clothes. Well, I saw him again tonight, but this time he was on a pink bike! I was sitting outside a coffee shop with a friend tonight. We were enjoying the beautiful Tucson night and observing the traffic up and down the street. I saw this guy go riding by in a large, 1950's style bike. The guy had horn-rimmed white glasses that sat on his very gaunt face. His long black hair was slicked back in a severe pony-tail. He was wearing a brown 1960's style blazer and had on jeans that looked too tight and too short for him. Then I noticed that his bike was pink, Barbie pink. That's when it hit me, this was the same guy I had seen almost a year ago! I couldn't believe it. The last time I saw him he looked far more ridiculous, but he was still rather interesting this time around. I mentioned him to my friend and she looked over to see who I was talking about. She then informed me that she saw him rather often and she always thought he was so strange. I told her about the time I had seen him in pink roller skates and we laughed at the crazy things you see in Tucson. =D

The Boogey Man

One of my earliest memories as a child happened when I was about three years old. My parents and my aunt and uncle all lived together, so there were four adults and seven children living in a rather large house together. At night my mom usually had me and my cousin and my older sisters at home. The house we lived in was a 1950's style house with a laundry room by the back door. One night we were home and my cousin and I were playing in the kitchen while my mom ran laundry; she would go back and forth between the laundry room and the kitchen checking on uo. We were happy playing in the kitchen floor, but every once and a while we would venture into the laundry room to ask my mom a question. On one such trip into the laundry room my cousin and I were standing at the door and noticed a man peering into the back door of our house. Of course we were a bit curious as to who he was and why he was standing at our back door, but my mom wasn't saying anything, so maybe it was no big deal. Of course, being three and four years old neither me or my cousin deduced that perhaps my mom was not saying anything because her back was to the door and she couldn't see the man peering inside. We asked our question and then left the laundry room. When we got to the kitchen we began discussing the strange man at the door. If mom knew him, why did she not let him in? If she wasn't letting him in, why was he at the door?
After a few minutes of this sort of talk my mom entered the kitchen and overheard our conversation. She asked, "What are you girls talking about?" We calmly looked at her and replied that we were discussing the strange man at the back door. She looked at us with a puzzled look on her face and asked, "What man?" "The one at the back door," my cousin replied. My mom again asked what we were talking about, informing us that there was no man at the back door. "Yes, there is," said my cousin, "I'll show you." The three of us then walked back to the laundry room and there was no man to be seen. My mother laughed and called us fanciful little girls, and then we left the laundry room.
A short while later we were getting ready for bed with one of my older sisters when we heard a commotion in the front part of the house. We raced down the hall to see what was happening. My mom was on the phone to my dad insisting that he come home and call the police because there was a Peeping Tom running around outside the house. Within a few minutes there was a friend of ours from the police department at the house checking it out. Of course we were not going to bed until we knew how things would end up, so we waited in the kitchen for the report. My cousin and I looked at each other knowingly. We really HAD seen a man and now no one would disbelieve us.
After what seemed an eternity, the police officer came inside the house. He and my mom walked into the laundry room to talk, I'm sure so we kids wouldn't hear them. My cousin and I slipped up to the laundry room door and listened as best we could. We heard my mom telling the police officer about our earlier sighting and how she had not believed us until she saw the man for herself. The police officer assured her that the man was no longer outside but that they had found footprints in the front and back yards around the windows. My cousin and I looked at each other again. We had been right! A man had been watching us! The chills went up and down our spines. Wow! At that moment the officer spotted us outside the door and asked my mom if he could ask us some questions. She said that was fine and he then questioned us on what we had seen. We felt pretty important at that moment. We had seen the man the police had come to check on. We had seen the Boogey Man and had even been talked to by the police officer and had helped them in their search for the man. How many little girls get to do that in their life time? Certainly not too many; but we had! This night would forever stay in my memory as one of the most interesting nights of my life.

Growing Up At IWH

Most people have interesting, fun, or weird experiences growing up. I am no different. My childhood years were the usual mix of good and bad, exciting and mundane. However, there are several things about my upbringing that I feel are truly unique, and I wish to share them with you in a series of stories. The stories I want to share are the comical ones because those are the memories that I hold dearest to me and the ones I want most to remember. Perhaps you will not find them funny at all, but I would wager that you will find at least one or two that will cause a smile to tug at the corners of your mouth, and maybe you will even find that you relate to my stories in a way that causes you to remember your own childhood. Whatever the case may be, I hope that you enjoy these short glimpses into my very colorful and varied past.

Urban Bus Adventure: The Girl

She was gorgeous! She looked like she had just stepped out of a magazine. She was tall and lean with beautiful blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. Her clothes fit her in all the right places accentuating her nicely shaped body. She was wearing hardly any make-up but her skin looked flawless. She was standing at the bus stop, her back pack slung over her graceful shoulders, without a care in the world. She was one of those girls that you see and wish almost instantaneously that nature had blessed you with her gifts. She looked to be about 16 years old and I wondered to myself what her high school days must be like. She most assuredly had a following of young boys clamoring for her attention. I smiled to myself as I approached the bus stop. I sat on the bench waiting and the girl paced a little to and fro. After a few minutes the girl struck up a conversation. We talked about the weather and school. She seemed to have a million and one questions to ask me. Did I like school? Did I like my subjects? Finally, she asked which school I attended. When I told it was the University she stood and looked at me in shock. "You go to college?!" she asked incredulously. "Oh my gosh! Did you start early?" I chuckled and assured her that was not the case, thinking to myself that perhaps it was best that I not tell her this was my 3rd year of college. As we were talking the bus rolled up and we prepared to board, the girl still asking me all sorts of questions. I answered them as best I could, trying not to shock her more than she already was. She informed me that she had thought I was in high school. Upon hearing this I asked her old she thought I was. She looked at me and squinted her eyes for a minute then assured me I looked no older than 16. Yikes!!! Well I guess I wasn't as mature and aged looking as I thought! I had to laugh though. I didn't tell her my real age but I did let her know that I was not quite that young. I then asked her about her schooling. She rattled off details about math classes and science classes and informed me of the classes she liked and the ones she disliked. After a few minutes of her filling me in on her school life I ventured to ask her what year she was and how old she was. I was not prepared for her response. "Oh, I'm 13. I'm in 8th grade this year and will start high school in the fall." Now it was my turn to be surprised and I just about fell off my seat from shock. It must have been very apparent because the girl started laughing and then managed to ask how old I thought she was. I told her that I had her pegged for at least 16 and already in high school. She giggled and reassured me it was a common mistake most people made when talking to her. She then told me that although she enjoyed be thought of as older at this point in her life she hoped that when she was my age she looked as young as I did. I could only smile at this thinking, "And you don't even know how 'old' I really am!"

Urban Bus Adventures: Bus Crash

It was a beautiful spring morning and I was waiting once again for the bus. I had early morning classes to get to and I was hoping the bus would be on time. It usually was. My favorite bus driver, Mac, was driving the route this morning and I was thrilled. Ever since he had taken the morning route over some 6 months prior, my ride to class every morning had become very enjoyable. Mac had been in Tucson for years and had held various jobs around town. He was fascinating to talk to. I would sit as close to the front as I could so that we could talk all the way to the university and then do the same on my trip home. I loved having him for a bus driver. He was also very punctual. Most bus drivers irritated me because they didn't care whether or not you were late to your stop. Many times I found myself huffing and puffing across campus to get to class 5 minutes late thanks to my lethargic bus driver. But that didn't happen with Mac. He made that bus move like no other bus driver I knew could. We were always on time unless something unavoidable happened. So, I was there waiting for him, looking forward to seeing him. He pulled in right on time and I hopped up the steps, swiping my pass and sitting in the first seat across from him. "Morning, Mac!", I called out. "Well good morning to you! How are you this morning?" he replied. I answered that I was alright and we started in chit chatting. We had made a couple of stops and were heading down the road at a good rate. We pulled in to a stop, more passengers boarded, and we started down the road again when suddenly we hit a massive wall of traffic. Mac tried desperately to slam on the brakes without losing control of the bus. The bus was swaying slightly and we were all hanging on to the rails as the bus skidded to a stop and into the car in front of us. There was the sound of the bus hitting the bumper of the car and a general gasp as the passengers on the bus realized what had just happened. We had just been in an accident in a bus! Mac was very clearly shaken and was asking everyone if they were alright. He radioed the bus station to send the police and let them know what had happened. He was informed that the passengers could not leave the bus until they had filled out reports of the incident. Upon hearing this several passengers began complaining about their schedules and asking if that really was the case. He tried to calm everyone down and find out what they needed. One man insisted that he had to get off the bus and find other transportation to an appointment he had. Mac took his information down and asked him to sign a statement before he left. He scrawled something on a sheet of paper and then gathered his things and stepped off the bus. Mac continued to try and calm the passengers and ask us to stay until the police arrived. He then got out of the bus and went to check on the passengers in the other car. The police were on the scene in a few minutes and were soon asking everyone what had happened.
I never made it to class that morning. Instead I spent the next hour filling out report forms for the bus company as well as giving a verbal statement to the police and filling out forms for them. Eventually another bus came to pick us up and take us to our destinations, but I felt bad leaving Mac there. There was no real damage done to the car in front of us. The bus was not going very fast at the moment of impact and the car bumper had absorbed most of the impact. Unfortunately for Mac, the front seat passenger in the car was pregnant and she began to hyperventilate when the bus hit them. The paramedics said she was most likely just fine, but she insisted that she was not and Mac feared there would be a suit against him and the bus company. He looked so shaken and worried when I left him that I felt terrible for him. I wished that I could help him some way. He asked if he could use my information in case he needed witnesses later on and I told him I would help him in any way I could. As I drove away on the next bus my thoughts were filled with worry about Mac. I never saw him again. I found out later that because of the accident the bus company had terminated him. I was sad to see him go. I never have had a better bus driver than him. How sad that a traffic pile up and an unavoidable accident left me without a good bus driver. Such is life on the bus route.