The end of the world is at hand.
I'm taking a creative non-fiction writing class and wrote a story about an uncomfortable situation. To my suprise the professor gave me an A+ on it. I almost shit my pants. As most of you know I'm not a very good writer. I have no idea how I got this mark. If anyone is thinking this, no I didn't sleep with her. Here's the story:
The shuttle was a burgundy Chevy Venture van, and my first though was, “I paid $60 to travel in my dads van.” I watched it pull into the Irving gas station in Yarmouth. However, being in Yarmouth with no car, (I do not drive) the van was my only way back to Halifax. On the side of the van was the company’s logo, “Campbell’s Shuttle from Yarmouth to Halifax” in big red font. “Classy” I thought, chuckling. The driver’s door opens and out comes a middle age man, with dark sunglasses, goatee and instantly starts talking. Eight am in the morning, no one is this upbeat and happy, without medication. I only had one coffee so his voice and personality is like nails down a chalkboard. I could easily hate him. He introduces himself as Bernie and he puts my luggage in the trunk.
It was cold standing in the parking lot waiting for my 30 minutes late shuttle. I needed to warm up. I climbed into the passenger seat since it was vacant and had the heating vent. I asked Bernie to blast the heat so I can thaw out.
Bernie said he was picking up an elderly man who reserved the passenger seat, my seat. I’ll have to move to another seat. Bernie suggested I sit behind him on the middle seat, the hump seat. It would give me some legroom. After talking to Bernie for 10 minutes, I had no problem changing seats.
He picked up his other passengers and there were seven of us. I meet this young woman, Shauna. We started talking and she mentioned about moving to St. John’s, Newfoundland for the summer. I told her I lived there for a while and gave her information about where to live, the bars and tourism sites to visit. I was the voice of Newfoundland Tourism.
A couple of the older passengers wanted to know why I was in Yarmouth, who I was visiting, where I worked etc. They wanted my life story. It felt like an interrogation. I didn’t know these people and when people I find out where I work they feel the need to share gambling stories .about people they knew who gamble I chose my words carefully, “I work in tourism.”
Looking out the window of the van traveling at 60 km/h, the landscape of Nova Scotia, the trees remind me of New Brunswick, tree, tree, house, tree, tree. Commenting this statement to everyone, they laugh.
Two hours into the trip, my body is getting sore. My legs are cramped and the shuttle feels like a sardine can. I want to stretch out my legs but that will mean kicking the dashboard. It is so uncomfortable sitting here.
The trip could have been a lot longer but I entertained everyone with stories, jokes and comments. The other people wanted to know if I did stand up comedy. My response was “you never know.”
The shuttle was a burgundy Chevy Venture van, and my first though was, “I paid $60 to travel in my dads van.” I watched it pull into the Irving gas station in Yarmouth. However, being in Yarmouth with no car, (I do not drive) the van was my only way back to Halifax. On the side of the van was the company’s logo, “Campbell’s Shuttle from Yarmouth to Halifax” in big red font. “Classy” I thought, chuckling. The driver’s door opens and out comes a middle age man, with dark sunglasses, goatee and instantly starts talking. Eight am in the morning, no one is this upbeat and happy, without medication. I only had one coffee so his voice and personality is like nails down a chalkboard. I could easily hate him. He introduces himself as Bernie and he puts my luggage in the trunk.
It was cold standing in the parking lot waiting for my 30 minutes late shuttle. I needed to warm up. I climbed into the passenger seat since it was vacant and had the heating vent. I asked Bernie to blast the heat so I can thaw out.
Bernie said he was picking up an elderly man who reserved the passenger seat, my seat. I’ll have to move to another seat. Bernie suggested I sit behind him on the middle seat, the hump seat. It would give me some legroom. After talking to Bernie for 10 minutes, I had no problem changing seats.
He picked up his other passengers and there were seven of us. I meet this young woman, Shauna. We started talking and she mentioned about moving to St. John’s, Newfoundland for the summer. I told her I lived there for a while and gave her information about where to live, the bars and tourism sites to visit. I was the voice of Newfoundland Tourism.
A couple of the older passengers wanted to know why I was in Yarmouth, who I was visiting, where I worked etc. They wanted my life story. It felt like an interrogation. I didn’t know these people and when people I find out where I work they feel the need to share gambling stories .about people they knew who gamble I chose my words carefully, “I work in tourism.”
Looking out the window of the van traveling at 60 km/h, the landscape of Nova Scotia, the trees remind me of New Brunswick, tree, tree, house, tree, tree. Commenting this statement to everyone, they laugh.
Two hours into the trip, my body is getting sore. My legs are cramped and the shuttle feels like a sardine can. I want to stretch out my legs but that will mean kicking the dashboard. It is so uncomfortable sitting here.
The trip could have been a lot longer but I entertained everyone with stories, jokes and comments. The other people wanted to know if I did stand up comedy. My response was “you never know.”