The Bus
Author: Jillybean
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By now it is more than mode of transport. As with all school trips - this one has spent a fair amount of time on the hulk of dusty metal. It's air conditioning is our lullaby; it's stiff, badly padded seats is our cradle.
Of course, most Scottish school trips don't have to put up with temperatures of 39 and a half centigrade, or stints of travelling that last for 24 hours. So it is perhaps understandable that as we near the end of our trip we have gotten to know this bus very well indeed.
It is evil.
If you were to walk down the thin aisle of this bus, moving between the rows of seats, you would witness firsthand a peculiar phenomenon. Some might think that they are walking through separate countries, medieval countries that are warring against each other. There are tentative links between the countries, and all out battles between others. But the person with this impression is wrong.
As you walk down the aisle, you are walking through completely primitive habitats. The first are the richer territories, where the teachers sit at the front of the bus. This territory has access to food, disinfectant, baby wipes and the all important video collection. This tribe is strong, though small - easily outnumbered. The next tribe you will find can live off of the teachers bounty, their territory is rich, though rarely sought after. The inhabitants are content to be among themselves and are the least bothered. The next territory, in the middle of the bus, is poor. They have a constantly offensive smell as they live by the toilet and they tend to be the youngest of the lot. Several of these tribes people have not discovered the Lynx effect, or indeed the effect of any deodorant. They have little sustenance, having forgotten to pack lunch earlier from the hotel and are often the most sick, having disobeyed the teachers and not taken their travel sickness pills. Progressing past this territory we come to the back of the bus. Here male seniors have secured themselves a crowded, but relatively clean little area they can guard and call home. Their conditions are cramped, but faced with the option of sitting by the teachers with the female seniors, or being painfully squashed together, they choose the latter.
And it is by now, as we go to travel to Belgium, that we watch this bus through the corner of our eye.
Watching it, it seems to be lulling us into a false sense of security. Sure the air conditioning gives everyone a cold - but isn't it worth it? After all, at 9 in the morning we can already feel the blistering heat in Germany.
And sure, the seats may be tough and sore, but at least we can catch a few extra hours sleep - the seats aren't that counter-productive to sleeping patterns. After all, nothing can be physically as uncomfortable as we remember it.
Besides, we can sit and catch up on all the things we haven't yet talked about with our friends. Maybe Allison would like to hear the story about old Auntie May - wait, maybe I've told her that one already. Oh - and Junior girls have fallen out. Well, the bus journey will give them time to reconcile.
We could also eat on the bus. Everything which hasn't turned into a melted unrecognizable mess. I had no idea that even bread can melt when the temperature gets high enough. See - the bus is also a place of learning!
The twitching has started. We mill outside the bus, taking up the pavement space in our reluctance to get on board.
We're not reluctant, we tell ourselves. We just want to wait to make sure we really are supposed to get on the bus.
One of the juniors starts shouting at his friend.
One of the teachers tells Stacey that her hotel door was left unlocked. Again. For the fifty third time.
It's just a little step up onto the bus. A tiny little step. Why can none of us make it?
All things must come to a end and soon we file on board. I've forgotten - Craig can't sit properly on the bus at all, he's too tall. He's also still sunburned from yesterday. The air conditioning switches on and I feel my cold begin. Stacey has forgotten to take her travel sickness pills. I need an aspirin already.
With a quick flash of inspiration I run off the bus to the chemists. Do I take longer than usual to buy a pack of tissues? Of course not! How dare you suggest I was delaying. My friend Allison realizes that we'll definitely need water. After all - we may definitely drink some of it before it gets too hot to handle. And Yvonne checks our room is locked for the hundredth time. It may have unlocked you know.
But there's no delaying it. We need to leave. The bus starts moving and the air conditioning blows hot air at us. Someone wails that they want music on. Someone else wants a video. We seniors at the front want only for quiet.
Hey - turns out there was a cinema in this town. Wish I'd know that earlier.
The Autobahn starts up - a long trail of punishment. Ms Brown stands up and starts to hand out sweets. We get out our CD players. We get ourselves as comfortable as we can. We aim the air conditioning at us and hope it will force us to stop sweating. We take out baby wipes in an attempt to make us clean.
But we're on the bus now. We are attached to it's life force. It breathes evil onto us and permeates our very being. We grow within it, ever dirtier and ever more tired.
One day we will walk away from this bus for good. But by that day - we may have become so much a part of it that we find ourselves unable to. I feel the bus connected to me, I feel it's wants, it's needs. The bus wants to take over the world. We are soon, only too willing . . .
Author: Jillybean
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By now it is more than mode of transport. As with all school trips - this one has spent a fair amount of time on the hulk of dusty metal. It's air conditioning is our lullaby; it's stiff, badly padded seats is our cradle.
Of course, most Scottish school trips don't have to put up with temperatures of 39 and a half centigrade, or stints of travelling that last for 24 hours. So it is perhaps understandable that as we near the end of our trip we have gotten to know this bus very well indeed.
It is evil.
If you were to walk down the thin aisle of this bus, moving between the rows of seats, you would witness firsthand a peculiar phenomenon. Some might think that they are walking through separate countries, medieval countries that are warring against each other. There are tentative links between the countries, and all out battles between others. But the person with this impression is wrong.
As you walk down the aisle, you are walking through completely primitive habitats. The first are the richer territories, where the teachers sit at the front of the bus. This territory has access to food, disinfectant, baby wipes and the all important video collection. This tribe is strong, though small - easily outnumbered. The next tribe you will find can live off of the teachers bounty, their territory is rich, though rarely sought after. The inhabitants are content to be among themselves and are the least bothered. The next territory, in the middle of the bus, is poor. They have a constantly offensive smell as they live by the toilet and they tend to be the youngest of the lot. Several of these tribes people have not discovered the Lynx effect, or indeed the effect of any deodorant. They have little sustenance, having forgotten to pack lunch earlier from the hotel and are often the most sick, having disobeyed the teachers and not taken their travel sickness pills. Progressing past this territory we come to the back of the bus. Here male seniors have secured themselves a crowded, but relatively clean little area they can guard and call home. Their conditions are cramped, but faced with the option of sitting by the teachers with the female seniors, or being painfully squashed together, they choose the latter.
And it is by now, as we go to travel to Belgium, that we watch this bus through the corner of our eye.
Watching it, it seems to be lulling us into a false sense of security. Sure the air conditioning gives everyone a cold - but isn't it worth it? After all, at 9 in the morning we can already feel the blistering heat in Germany.
And sure, the seats may be tough and sore, but at least we can catch a few extra hours sleep - the seats aren't that counter-productive to sleeping patterns. After all, nothing can be physically as uncomfortable as we remember it.
Besides, we can sit and catch up on all the things we haven't yet talked about with our friends. Maybe Allison would like to hear the story about old Auntie May - wait, maybe I've told her that one already. Oh - and Junior girls have fallen out. Well, the bus journey will give them time to reconcile.
We could also eat on the bus. Everything which hasn't turned into a melted unrecognizable mess. I had no idea that even bread can melt when the temperature gets high enough. See - the bus is also a place of learning!
The twitching has started. We mill outside the bus, taking up the pavement space in our reluctance to get on board.
We're not reluctant, we tell ourselves. We just want to wait to make sure we really are supposed to get on the bus.
One of the juniors starts shouting at his friend.
One of the teachers tells Stacey that her hotel door was left unlocked. Again. For the fifty third time.
It's just a little step up onto the bus. A tiny little step. Why can none of us make it?
All things must come to a end and soon we file on board. I've forgotten - Craig can't sit properly on the bus at all, he's too tall. He's also still sunburned from yesterday. The air conditioning switches on and I feel my cold begin. Stacey has forgotten to take her travel sickness pills. I need an aspirin already.
With a quick flash of inspiration I run off the bus to the chemists. Do I take longer than usual to buy a pack of tissues? Of course not! How dare you suggest I was delaying. My friend Allison realizes that we'll definitely need water. After all - we may definitely drink some of it before it gets too hot to handle. And Yvonne checks our room is locked for the hundredth time. It may have unlocked you know.
But there's no delaying it. We need to leave. The bus starts moving and the air conditioning blows hot air at us. Someone wails that they want music on. Someone else wants a video. We seniors at the front want only for quiet.
Hey - turns out there was a cinema in this town. Wish I'd know that earlier.
The Autobahn starts up - a long trail of punishment. Ms Brown stands up and starts to hand out sweets. We get out our CD players. We get ourselves as comfortable as we can. We aim the air conditioning at us and hope it will force us to stop sweating. We take out baby wipes in an attempt to make us clean.
But we're on the bus now. We are attached to it's life force. It breathes evil onto us and permeates our very being. We grow within it, ever dirtier and ever more tired.
One day we will walk away from this bus for good. But by that day - we may have become so much a part of it that we find ourselves unable to. I feel the bus connected to me, I feel it's wants, it's needs. The bus wants to take over the world. We are soon, only too willing . . .