Take It to the Back of the Bus

Disclaimer: I realize this statement symbolizes the racial and cultural bias that has plagued America throughout history. I in no way mean to downplay this in my post.

Unfortunately, I was not aware of the historical significance of this statement until I heard it referenced in a rap song. I believe this is a greater testament to the private school education system than my dependence on hip hop for history lessons. Regardless, when my sister explained the racial implications of the chorus line, my initial reaction was that Rosa Parks was clearly missing the distinct advantages held by those seats.

When I stepped onto my bus at the ungodly hour of 6:30 and Mr. Lowe said in a jolly voice it was the elementary students' turn to sit in the back of the bus, I smiled with glee. This meant a half hour of bouncing to the ceiling every time we drove over a pebble. It meant being able to look forward and observe the behavior of the high schoolers, giving us a sense of superiority. Most exciting was the opportunity to look through the escape door and communicate with drivers behind us. We waved, performed hand puppet plays, and wrote signs. To be honest, I have no idea what those signs said, but I am quite sure they were witty and in no way offensive. In my six years of riding the bus, however, I never witnessed the scene that twenty middle school baseball players had the privilege of seeing this past week.

As with most of my stories that involve clothing mishaps, there is a very logical thought process that lands me in a terribly awkward situation. I am glad I have the opportunity to articulate this process, as normally, the situation ends with my family asking "What were you thinking?" without me getting a chance to explain what I was actually thinking.

In this case, there are three crucial bits of character to note:

1) I tend to overbook my schedule
2) Time efficiency is an overarching goal in daily activities
3) I am not as cautious when changing clothes as some, and more importantly, I never foresee this leading to humiliation

The potential consequences of referenced character traits manifest themselves nicely in the following anecdote. This past Thursday, I left work and squeezed in an intense workout prior to Changing Lives (or volunteering, but I believe this has a more austere connotation). I left the gym with a spring in my step as I always do after a solid session of lifting to intense music and gazing at beautiful men. Unfortunately, due to time constraints, it was difficult to change into more appropriate attire between functions. The most effective way to do so was using my car as a dressing room which has been my custom since the age of sixteen.

I was sitting at a light, listening to Jack Johnson and pondering which look I preferred on guys whilst working out:

- Baggy sweat pants and wifebeater/tight Under Armour shirt accentuating the biceps
- Knee length shorts and pit-stained t-shirt
- Below the knee shorts and tastefully cut-off tee

when it occurred to me this would be the perfect time to change my shirt. I briefly surveyed the surrounding vehicles. On my left there was a car whose driver, geometrically speaking, was not at an angle conducive to viewing. On my right there was no one. In front of me, there was a bus, but the time was six o'clock; the bus was most likely returning from its after school routes. If the driver behind me happened to catch a glimpse of my sports bra as I changed, so be it. We are all vehicle-operating adults.

I took off my sweaty t-shirt and searched for its alternate. The sleeves were awry, and cowl necks never cease to confuse me. As I fumbled with the shirt, I looked to make sure the light was still red and, in doing so, realized that ten heads had popped up liked daisies from the back seats of the bus. Apparently, the bus was not empty but was transporting a team of middle school baseball players. (I assume they were middle school students because high school boys are a little too close to my age for this story to be innocently cute, and I assume they were baseball players because of the caps.) My shirt finally on, I spent the next fifteen seconds attempting to avoid eye contact with the continuously growing number of googly-eyed heads, and I spent the following thirty seconds embracing the situation and returning their waves with a dashing smile. I imagine my waves were quite similar to those of Kate Middleton the following morning.

Finally, the light turned green, and we eventually parted ways. I am not sure if it was the seventh or eighth grade boys' turn to claim the coveted position on the bus. Whoever it was, they hit the backseat jackpot.