A Bus Ride
Question 9
Sunny, calm, palm trees blowing. It was just a regular Saturday Bermuda, morning. Fifteen years young, and not a care in the world, riding the pink and blue into town. The air was crisp, and the seniors perfume sang through the air. Mothers continued the tedious job of hushing babies to sleep. The windows were open, and as the bus sped across the limestone walls, the trees fell in. Some trees hit passengers in the face, and some passengers didn't seem fazed. Sitting in the row before the very back, was I, with my ear phones plugged into my ears bumping to Drakes new album. As we neared Southampton parish, on the south shore there were mounds of people that I had never seen before. Mounds and mounds of them. Sun burnt, sandy, with various hats on of all shapes and sizes, and they smelt of sun block, salt water and sweat. The bus was half way full, and I was one of the few who had an empty seat next to them. How I dreaded for a stranger to sit next to me. As the bus came to a complete stop, the people I had never seen before spilled into the bus, like orange juice into a glass on a summer afternoon. As I hoped and prayed that they would over look the seat next to me, I was wrong. They didn’t, they sat so close, and their sandy legs touched my new blue Levi jeans. I squirmed in my seat, closer and closer to the window, hoping that every stop was my next stop. I guess my efforts went in vain. The stranger’s big duffle bag behind me swung and hit me in the head. “OUCH!” I let out a big yelp, and rubbed my head. They said nothing, noticed nothing, and I guess after that I felt nothing. My stop was next, I was overjoyed to get off. And I never saw that stranger again.
Sunny, calm, palm trees blowing. It was just a regular Saturday Bermuda, morning. Fifteen years young, and not a care in the world, riding the pink and blue into town. The air was crisp, and the seniors perfume sang through the air. Mothers continued the tedious job of hushing babies to sleep. The windows were open, and as the bus sped across the limestone walls, the trees fell in. Some trees hit passengers in the face, and some passengers didn't seem fazed. Sitting in the row before the very back, was I, with my ear phones plugged into my ears bumping to Drakes new album. As we neared Southampton parish, on the south shore there were mounds of people that I had never seen before. Mounds and mounds of them. Sun burnt, sandy, with various hats on of all shapes and sizes, and they smelt of sun block, salt water and sweat. The bus was half way full, and I was one of the few who had an empty seat next to them. How I dreaded for a stranger to sit next to me. As the bus came to a complete stop, the people I had never seen before spilled into the bus, like orange juice into a glass on a summer afternoon. As I hoped and prayed that they would over look the seat next to me, I was wrong. They didn’t, they sat so close, and their sandy legs touched my new blue Levi jeans. I squirmed in my seat, closer and closer to the window, hoping that every stop was my next stop. I guess my efforts went in vain. The stranger’s big duffle bag behind me swung and hit me in the head. “OUCH!” I let out a big yelp, and rubbed my head. They said nothing, noticed nothing, and I guess after that I felt nothing. My stop was next, I was overjoyed to get off. And I never saw that stranger again.