Monday, November 14, 2016
Waiting For A Bus
Waiting For A Bus
Friday night I was waiting for a bus out in the cold, and it was cold. It was November cold. November cold is the worst even though it is still not freezing. Your body has not yet adjusted from the warm summer temps, and your mind has not yet adjusted to preparing for the cold…you always seem to be under-insulated in November.
What was I doing waiting for a bus out in the cold?
Mrs. C’s niece had a sweet sixteen birthday party. We drove to the party along with step-crank Casey. Casey took the bus home to NYC after the party which was in Jersey. We drove Casey to the bus stop.
Now we could have waited in the nice warm car for the bus, but Mrs. C is convinced that if the bus driver does not see anyone at the stop he will not even slow down. Mrs. C has a whole game plan to wait for a bus.
“You have to wait at the stop, not in the car or the driver may just pass you by.”
“OK, but can I wait in the car until just before the bus is supposed to arrive?”
“No, he might be early and he may not stop.”
“Oh, and have your ticket ready.” (Like if you fumble for the ticket the driver will not let you on and will just go to the next stop.)
“I have the ticket right in my hand.”
“Don’t drop it, it will fly away in the wind, but have it ready.”
“I’ll hold on to it real tight.”
“Joe, you get out and wait with Casey so she won’t get harassed by anyone while waiting, it’s getting late.”
“Who is going to protect her on the bus.”
“Just wait with her…Jerk! And put your cell phone to flashlight mode so the driver will be sure to see you”
So, Casey and I left the car to wait at the stop which was open to the cold wind, and we were both dressed for November weather, which means under-dressed. Casey held on tight to her ticket, ready to hand it to the driver without any search or delay. I had my phone on flashlight mode ready to signal the driver.
The Denver Broncos were less prepared for the Super Bowl then we were for that bus.
The bus was due at 9:47. At 9:55 there was no bus. Well there were three buses, all had out-of-service signs displayed. We waited and waited. Sometimes we got excited to see the high lights of a bus only to have it turn into an eighteen-wheeler. At ten O’clock I suggested that Casey wait in the car, there was no reason for us both to freeze.
At 10:10 I was freezing and miserable and starting to get a little pissed off. I was used to delays from my train commute years ago, but at least they informed you when there was a problem. How long do you wait for a bus before you give up? Anyone who has ever waited for anything knows it is not the wait, it is the not knowing that makes you miserable.
At the peak of my misery my mind drifted to the innocent citizens in Mosul, Iraq, who have been terrorized for over two years by the sadistic murderous ISIS extremists. They are now waiting for ISIS to be driven out of their city, they are waiting for some semblance of freedom, waiting for the opportunity to resume a life that has been put on hold, and while they wait they are in fear of having their life snuffed out by ISIS at the last minute, just because that is what ISIS does. Waiting for freedom, in fear for their life, and I was annoyed because the bus was late.
Finally, the bus arrived at 10:25 and Casey was on her way back to the city. At 12:30 she called to say she was safely home. It was hard waiting for that call. I hate waiting.
I can’t imagine what it is like in Mosul.