The Bus

I was a bus kid for most of my public school experience. Most days after school, I had to board the big yellow monster, endure a ride of several minutes, and then walk several blocks to get home.

When I got to college, I took a Utah Transit Authority bus (or rather, two buses, as I had to transfer) to almost every class. I had to wait in the rain, the snow, the battering winds and the freezing cold. Oh, sure, it was pleasant to ride the bus on warm spring days, when I could sit in the sunshine during my transfer and read a book. Most of the time, though, it was miserable.

After I graduated from Nameless Utah College, I thought that my bus-riding days were over. However, I soon realized that there was no way I was getting to work in the snow. People from out of town scoff and say that Utah drivers don't know how to drive in the snow, but I say all snow is different. I know how to successfully drive in some kinds of snow, but I lack the skillz to grapple with all of them. If so many non-Utah people really do know a technique that allows for driving in all kinds of snow, I demand that they make an instructional course and mass-produce it immediately. The northern hemisphere needs it.

The first winter I worked in Work City, I took the bus for about two months straight. Unfortunately, it was just as tedious as it had been during school. Even more so, perhaps, now that my life had moved on from the poor college student stage.

Last winter, I took the bus maybe a grand total of three weeks when you add all the days together. I just couldn't bear it if I didn't have to.

This winter, I've tried to avoid the bus at all. I just can't do it. However, after my car slid into an adjacent lane on a freeway exit last week, my hand was forced.

Monday morning found me standing in the cold and the dark, waiting for a bus.

It's discouraging yet humbling to find yourself back in a place you keep thinking you've left behind.

Ah well. Maybe someday. A girl can always hope.