My Revelation Concerning a Bus

After many frustrating days of waiting for my bus, I realized I just need to relax.

Art by Seth Langer, Catherine Cai and Sage Nenyue| VOX Staff

By Seth Langer| VOX Staff

The ticking hands of the clock sounded like the beat of a snare. A bead of sweat formed on my forehead, rolled down to my nose, and fell to the concrete with a splash. This August day, waves of heat enveloped me. It was 4 p.m.—school had ended 40 minutes earlier. And my bus was nowhere to be found.

I wait for this bus every day. This day though, the fury in me was hotter than the afternoon itself, and it suddenly boiled up and blew out of me, like a giant volcano full of anger and intestines. But it was because of my outburst that I figured out the surefire way to get through your teenage years unscathed—or at least a changed perspective I now use to decrease my stress and grumpiness.

The Psychosis Develops
We stood like soldiers in front of the school, all at attention in hopes that our big yellow savior would pull into the roundabout. But the clock kept ticking. And the bus wasn’t coming. The brave riders of 1244 waited.

The sun shone brighter and hotter on us each busless minute. Our groans and complaints were all in vain; there was still no sign of our driver, Ms. Williams. My frustration grew. I live three miles away from the school. Every single hot, freezing, smoggy, rainy, windy, dusty, stress-laden day, my bus comes late. The school won’t let me back in to enjoy the air conditioning, won’t let me back in from the rain, so I look up and down North Druid Hills Road with longing. Ms. Williams is nowhere to be seen when all my friends pull out of the roundabout at 3:25, heading home to rest. But there is no rest for the weary who live off of LaVista Road. We wait.

It baffles me that as the kids living closest to the school, our bus comes latest. This is not justice! My friend Sam lives down the street from the school, yet she gets home more than 30 minutes after school is let out. She can’t walk, not along the dangerous, sidewalk-less roads. So she waits for Ms. Williams to drive up in Satan’s own bus, 1244. It rocks rattles bumps clacks breaks down in the road and overheats and makes noises so loud, you’d think it was an airplane taking off.
That day, waiting in the heat, with my heavy backpack on my shoulders, I snapped. I couldn’t take it anymore. Late every day! I threw the backpack to the ground, fell to my knees and screamed to the heavens: “S***!!!”

The Hissy Fit From Hell
My anger knew no bounds. I lashed out at friends. I yelled at appalled faculty, my eyes red with the rage of a boy who just wanted to go home and watch “Seinfeld.” One of my bus-mates, William, a jolly young 14 year old, new to the school and the injustices of 1244, tried to calm me down by giving me some water and patting my back. The kindness he showed contrasted with the pure cruelty that was being inflicted upon us just riled me up even more. Yelling expletives that echoed off the sky, I started to convulse with rage. The rest of the riders stepped back awkwardly. “WHY THE F*** IS THE BUS NEVER HERE? WHY THE F*** IS THE BUS NEVER HERE?” This, along with plenty of other profane slogans, was the only speech spewing from me for the remaining 15 minutes until the bus finally arrived. We piled in. The ride to my stop was silent.

I was still pissed. This had been going on for three years. The first year my mom called the county. She explained the situation, and they said they were going to do something about it. For a week the bus came only 10 minutes late, but after that, it started coming later and later until we were right back where we’d started.

I felt powerless. I wanted to know why our driver came so late. I wanted her to come on time when the county said she would come for us, and I wanted her to apologize. I go to school all day and do the best job I can; she should do the same. But one disgruntled rider isn’t going to change the whole county’s bus schedule. So how could I solve this problem?

The Epiphany
The truth was I couldn’t. After getting home and relaxing, I realized that the whole issue was out of my control. I had an awakening! Ms. Williams couldn’t do a thing about it either. Her route was her route, traffic was traffic, she drove the way she drove, the county operates the way the county operates, and I would just have to suck it up and wait.

I realized something else: It wasn’t just the bus. There were tons of things that were just…out of my control: my homework load, my teachers, people I hate, my parents’ inconsistent house rules. I realized I had no way of changing any of them. They are the way that they are, and I am the way that I am. I felt relieved. The only way to get through the work, the teachers, the parents, and students, I saw, was for me to just chill out and accept them for what they are.

As teenagers (and even adults), some of us don’t know when to fight back—and when to just shut up. Complaining won’t get my bus to come to school earlier. So why bother? It’s a waste of time, energy and air. So often I hear my friends complaining about how stupid a teacher is or how much stupid work they have to do, and it’s never really worth listening to. I tune them out. And then, when they actually have something valid to say, I probably won’t listen, because I’ll assume it’s just another silly complaint.

Still, silent suffering shouldn’t be an option. When something is truly wrong you can bet I’ll raise hell. But when it’s something that in the big picture is as minute as “my bus is always late,” yelling and fighting is just silly. Everyone has to decide for himself what problems are worth raising hell for. And that just probably comes out of living for longer than 16 years. It takes a ton of life experience to know what is truly important to you, I’d assume.

Until we all become omnipotent deities, we can’t control everything. We don’t have a say over every thing that happens in our lives. Even as adults, we’ll always have to deal with bosses, politicians and deer crossings—and with more serious troubles, like an ill relative or lay offs. Sometimes things just happen, and you have to accept it and hopefully see the positive side. I’m not too good at that yet, but again, I guess it just takes time to learn how.

So my philosophy now is this: It’s a matter of perspective. Just take a breath and let it go. There will be a time to stand up for myself, but not everything has to be a fight. And I’m glad that I figured that out, because now, when my bus comes so extremely late, I don’t curse the bus-gods. I calmly wait, knowing that I, along with the other soldiers on 1244, will all eventually get home.

Seth is a junior at DeKalb School of the Arts who connects with his audience through tag lines.