The bus driver hates you

I don’t think I’ve ever said this before, and I hope I never have to again. I am envious of fascist Italy because at least Mussolini could make his country’s buses run on time.

I cannot clearly express my rage through this ink and paper before you, but I’m sure you’ve felt it at one point.

You just got done staring at books for an extensive amount of time in the library. You have 40 minutes to get to class, which is on the other side of campus. If you walked, you’d get there on time, no problem. But there are obstacles you encounter. You open the door and realize that it’s so cold you might as well be in Soviet Russia. As you fall down the stairs, you find that loafers were a bad idea because the sidewalks are covered in an uneven, slightly visible layer of ice. So you decide the bus is the right way to go; you are wrong.

If you look at the bus schedule from the campus bus Web site, it claims to have a bus running every five to 10 minutes. This is a lie.

After skating on the ice to get to the bus stop, you wait. Then you wait a little longer, and as time goes on a crowd of your peers develops behind you. Gazing past the horde, you spot what could be a bus and smile. Someone else smiles back; you look away awkwardly.

Sadly, it’s an E bus, which is actually a siren that lures unsuspecting students to their doom.

Seven minutes later an A bus is coming your way. You’ve spotted it early and slowly make your way to where it should stop. But it brakes about 10 feet to your right, and the mob behind you reacts fast. Before you know it, the bus is full, and your wait continues. You begin to cry as you so often do in this situation, and tears freeze to your cheeks.

It’s been 16 minutes since you saw a viable bus. You have about 12 minutes to get to class, and you contemplate walking again, but that window of opportunity has long since passed. You acclimate yourself into the group of people who were also left behind by the full bus. Together, you crowd for warmth; you will all surely die from hypothermia.

Someone looks up in excitement and everyone turns. It’s a B bus! You hug and kiss a stranger; you immediately regret it.

The marquee says “Full Load.”

Fortunately, right behind it is another B bus. You get on and find a seat. You might make it to class after all.

Then you start to think: why were two B buses together like that? Did one get scared and wait for the other to hold its hand through the route? Is the campus bus system modeled after Bloomington Transit, which is equally as bad? Or have you wronged the bus drivers of Bloomington in some way and received this as your punishment?

But you forget about those questions and focus on the backpack that’s touching your face.


E-mail: nicjacob@indiana.edu