On Buses

I was telling Kyle about my bus ride today and how particular I am about where I sit.  At moments when I admit to myself my weird-o tendencies, I know youth has abandoned me and I'm at the doorstep of old ladydom.  I only like to sit in the front section of the bus; if I have to sit in the back section of the bus, I generally feel so awkward.  You should know that the difference between the front and the back is distinguished by the exit door; you can't just descend where you got on the bus where the driver greets you.  He or she doesn't want to see you after you validate your bus pass....move on back, sucker.  The awkwardness from sitting in the back comes from the close proximity of all the seats; there is not an easy way to casually look out to window or around the bus with out making eye contact with all the other sorry folks sans voitures.  And since this is not the cheery South of the good ole U.S.A., eye contact with strangers is a most undesirable consequence of riding the bus.  The fellow passenger typically reacts as if you've intentionally stepped on their foot or knocked something out of their hands.  The audacity!  You looked at me!

Sadly I've become accustomed to passenger prickliness syndrome that I don't like it when a looky-loo stares at me.  Please don't dwell on my wind blown hair or my un-chic shoes too long, person.  I can tell you're really unimpressed, but believe me, I am living out of two suitcases worth of clothes and couldn't come up with anything better with which to impress the locals.  So it's much better to sit in the front where there is much more space, and if I get the front seat, I don't have to share it with anyone.  There are far fewer moments to be scrutinized by strangers....most of the time.  The terrible part about all of this is that the front section is typically reserved for certain people.  The elect chosen for the front of the bus are the elderly, pregnant women, women with small children, the disabled, and.....those who are disfigured from war.  Seriously? French soldiers who have seen combat?  I'm more likely to ride the bus with a unicorn.

So while in one of the highly coveted and forbidden seats, I often think what excuse I can make if ever reproached on the subject of my not belonging.  Most simple is to say I am pregnant but am not showing just yet.  The list doesn't say how pregnant you have to be.  I thought about telling any accuser that I'm like Benjamin Button, and though they can't tell, I'm terribly old.  I have to give Kimmmiey Bostedo credit for my last excuse.  I would say that I was serving in the military until I injured the cushy part of my heals so that the really no longer exist, and each and every step I take is uncomfortable (for those who don't know KB, she developed this rare and irreversible condition in high school cheerleading~what I believe to be equivalent to French military training.)  Thankfully I've never had to use these, and I am more willing to give my seat up to someone who actually qualifies to sit in the reserved places before defending my choice to a surly Frenchman.

In other news, I'm still in the good graces of at least one child at my Marly school despite having deserted them more than three weeks ago.  Behold what I like to call my Robot Camel....

His torso is a parallelogram.

Also I have this student Hugo who always manages to convince his parents to let him stay home from school on test day.  And not just test day, but every make up day that I have scheduled for his test from the dawn of time.  He's quite skilled in procrastination.  I finally had his teacher administer his exam.  I haven't graded it yet, but it did yield one amusing response I'd like to share...

The question reads "What 3 body parts do you like?"  His response, "I like cheese, knee, and foot."  Buddy, we all like cheese, and I doubt you'd be French if you didn't.  It probably is a part of his body~full credit for Hugo's cheese answer.

Terribly sorry this entry dwelt on where I sit on the bus.  With some reflection, I realize it sounds as petty as it did when I was in elementary school, and the seats in the back of the bus were all the rage. Perhaps something a little more eventful or charming will happen this week.  I guess I could have shared with you how we had a group of friends over for a pancake brunch on Sunday after church or how we have Bible study tonight with the one and only Jack Mac.  Even that Peter is coming to lunch at our place to watch Lost (I think we're getting a Sayid episode!!!  Wish he'd been married to Shannon in the new 2004...)   All sorts of things have more meaning; I hope to choose more wisely in my next entry.  Later folks!