The Bus Ride

I will never do that again. There's a good reason why people drive cars in L.A. Public transportation here is a royal pain.

My car that had that little incident on the freeway was finally fixed. How long has it been, almost a month? I could have called the auto body shop and asked them to come get me, but although I've never been on it, I thought that I would just take the bus. The bus goes almost directly from my house to the auto body shop. It sounded like an adventure.

I walked to the bus stop and waited. I didn't know the schedule, but it seemed like the buses should run about every 15 minutes. Who wants to wait longer than that? As the time slowly passed, I sat perspiring in the hot sun wishing that I had put on more sunblock. I was starting to wonder if the buses were running at all and cursing my decision to take the bus.

After 40 minutes a bus finally came. I asked how much it cost and how to let him know when I wanted to get off. He asked where I was going, I told him Creekside Road. He asked if I was picking up my car, I said yes, and he said that he would stop when we got there. Although I had left my tiarra at home, he knew that I was a princess.

The bus was empty, but quickly filled up to standing room only as the bus proceeded. Soon, I was surrounded by immigrant women with hoards of noisy children doing their shopping. I honestly don't know how they manage.

The entire journey including the wait for the bus took one hour and twenty minutes. I could have driven it in less than 15 minutes. That's why everyone in L.A. who lives above the poverty level drives cars.

Shortly before my stop came up, someone signaled that they wanted the bus to stop. The driver looked at me in his mirror and yelled out, ma'am, you're stop isn't for another two blocks. I'll tell you when we get there. I hadn't signaled him, someone else did, but I got the blame. Not wanting to call attention to myself, I said nothing and just sat there like a good princess.

It was such a relief to get out of that bus and return to my life. Instead of holding me in contempt, the auto shop guy flirted with me, giggled and handed me the keys to my once again beautiful car. Now, that's how a princess should be treated.