From my journal..........
Riding the bus is like eating macaroni and cheese out of a box. Generic mac & cheese with the faded powdery cheese and pathetic looking noodles. It's not the bold day glo orange Kraft Mac & Cheese. It makes me feel like I ate whole pot of the stuff only because I was really hungry and now I feel guilty and want to yark.
Riding the Max is like eating homemade Mac & Cheese. It's (usually) smooth and satisfying. Sure you might get an uncooked noodle here and there and the noodles might stick together but it's ultimately satisfying.
********
Crazy man on the bus is trying to escape. He doesn't know which bus he's on and his inner cell phone won't tell him. He keeps asking. The bus stopped and let someone off. Crazy Man got up at the last minute and ran to the door. It closed on him. We're still on Bus 30.
Grey Pants Man is very tired and smells like cigarettes. He leans against Crazy Man's seat and won't tell him which bus we are on.
Lady with 18 kids has another one on the way. Baby number 17 doesn't want to sit on her lap anymore. She's passing it on to her sister who only has 10 kids.
The driver is tired and spaced out. She forgets to stop when people signal and they have to yell to get her to stop.
Getting off the bus is freeing. I'm away from the smells and crazies and sleepies. Now I get to walk and walk. But I'm off the bus.
Riding the Max is like eating homemade Mac & Cheese. It's (usually) smooth and satisfying. Sure you might get an uncooked noodle here and there and the noodles might stick together but it's ultimately satisfying.
********
Crazy man on the bus is trying to escape. He doesn't know which bus he's on and his inner cell phone won't tell him. He keeps asking. The bus stopped and let someone off. Crazy Man got up at the last minute and ran to the door. It closed on him. We're still on Bus 30.
Grey Pants Man is very tired and smells like cigarettes. He leans against Crazy Man's seat and won't tell him which bus we are on.
Lady with 18 kids has another one on the way. Baby number 17 doesn't want to sit on her lap anymore. She's passing it on to her sister who only has 10 kids.
The driver is tired and spaced out. She forgets to stop when people signal and they have to yell to get her to stop.
Getting off the bus is freeing. I'm away from the smells and crazies and sleepies. Now I get to walk and walk. But I'm off the bus.