Bus Story
Once a month, I make a long-haul public transit trip to the suburbs to meet with the mentor that my professional association has assigned me. I'm amazingly lucky to have the ear of this experienced, smart and well-meaning guy and talking to him is totally worth the epic suck that is the trip out there.
The last leg of the trip is a winding bus connection from the end of the Skytrain line to my mentor's office. At the Skytrain station at the End of the Earth, I sat knitting while waiting for the bus, and was very surprised to look up and see that a giant crowd of teenagers and adults had appeared at the bus stop. It was like they had snuck up on me.
Once we all squeezed on the bus, it occured to me that this was a field trip for a school for deaf teenagers. Everyone was in high spirits and rowdy, punching each other and enthusiastically communicating by sign language. The bus was packed, yet almost silent. It was uncanny. The only sound the whole trip, other than the big old bus engine, was all these kids constantly cracking up, laughing and laughing.
The last leg of the trip is a winding bus connection from the end of the Skytrain line to my mentor's office. At the Skytrain station at the End of the Earth, I sat knitting while waiting for the bus, and was very surprised to look up and see that a giant crowd of teenagers and adults had appeared at the bus stop. It was like they had snuck up on me.
Once we all squeezed on the bus, it occured to me that this was a field trip for a school for deaf teenagers. Everyone was in high spirits and rowdy, punching each other and enthusiastically communicating by sign language. The bus was packed, yet almost silent. It was uncanny. The only sound the whole trip, other than the big old bus engine, was all these kids constantly cracking up, laughing and laughing.