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Bus Story: A Different Kind of Emergency Kit

September 27, 2010

A drizzly morning and I climb aboard a bus almost filled with teens on their way to school. Why they haven’t been on previous buses, I don’t care to guess, but they are here, draped, piled, and otherwise strewn about the ole 54 like debris after an explosion in a mall. I find a vacant seat after asking Too Cool for His Hoodie Boy to move his backpack. And directly opposite me is a couple, right in my line of sight. I have to turn my head to avoid looking at them. And avoiding looking at them is all that is keeping me from getting nauseated. She’s sitting up in the seat and he’s lounging, his head on her shoulder, and legs sprawled over the rest of the bench seat. That’s not the gag inducing part: she’s stroking his cheek, like one might to check how close a shave someone got, or to see how soft a baby’s skin is. Over and over, she pets him, gazing into his face. He has no expression on his face. They can’t be more than 14 or 15. I think buses should be equipped with an air horn and a bucket of cold water. I know hormones are raging and it’s been this way for ages, but perhaps if we were thus equipped, we could get a handful to cut it out and pay more attention in school.

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From → Bus Stories

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