Every Rose Has It's Thorn, Miley Cyrus

Yesterday as I was driving home early from work, I came across a school bus. Several memories came back as I thought about past experiences with the bus. So for the next few blog entries, they will all be related to the bright yellow school transport!



The agony of middle school was only embellished that the students in my neighborhood got to take the school bus to school. My bus stop was at the beginning of the route and directly across the street from my house. After visiting all the the stops, the bus would loop around to pass my stop again since my street is on the way to school.



Our school bus driver's name was Shirley, and if you were to clone Mimi from The Drew Carey Show, you would have her evil twin. She loved colorful eyeshadow which was always emphasized with her grim demeanor. To make her day better, I always thanked her because that's just who I am.

Well one morning I was off my routine for one reason or another. As I was hurrying to get out the door, I heard the bus brakes, which meant that Shirley was already at the stop. The brilliant idea came that Shirley would loop around all the stops, and that I could flag her down when she rolled back around. I hurried out the door, and stood against the street post on the corner where she would pass by.

Minutes later I could see the bright bus making it's final pick-up down at the end of the street. I prepared myself mentally for how I was going to get her attention. I was going to wave as big as I could and point at myself and then at the bus to indicate I needed to get on.

Up the street came the eyeshadow queen. I started waving and we made eye contact. The proceeded to get closer and closer with each second. As the bus neared the corner, fellow riders saw me began to pound on the windows and tell her to stop. The Dame Ms. Shirley continued forward. Time stood still as what appeared as a blurred yellow crayon passed by.


Voices continued to scream as big yellow taxi accelerated and moved up the street.

I was stuck in awe! How could she not pick me up? I was right there where she could see me. I never caused any problems on the bus!

From the street corner I ran towards my house, as teardrops fell upon the asphalt. As a child I was always very emotional and sensitive to rejection. I ran into my house and through sobbed out-of-breath words, told my mom the whole story. After I could calm down, my mom ushered me into the min-van so I could make it to second period.

From then on... I stopped thanking her for the bus ride. She was the anti-friend, a bully if you will.