Little Assh*les
I had to drive from Alfred University to Geneva, NY.
It’s a 90-minute drive through small towns, winding roads and farm communities. There appears to be a fair amount of poverty in those rural areas.
Lot of MAGA signs.
I got held up twice:
- By a horse & buggy
- By a slow-moving, massive tractor.
The sun was shining though and the music was good.
Then I got behind a school bus.
I suffered through 6 stops...
...at 5 of them the Mom came out to get the kid. They weren’t little kids.
I found it odd that Mom came out to get them.
Our Mom didn’t when we were young, and that’s nothing against my perfect Mom...
...Moms just didn’t do that then.
I didn’t think about it too much, nothing too heavy, but I distinctly recalled waiting for the bus, in the morning with Corinne and John.
We tortured my beautiful, older sister.
In fact, she called us names...
...’little assholes’ was one of her favorites.
Back in present day, the bus stopped in front of me and 3 kids bounded down the steps.
Two boys and a girl.
I thought of a morning when we were giving it to Corinne pretty good and we were also running late.
John was out front.
“Bus!” He yelled.
“Get out there,” Mom said. “I’m not driving you.”
Corinne ran down the hall and I followed her. She was mad at both me and John that morning, and she showed her anger by slamming the storm door as I was making my way through it.
I went straight through the glass and landed on the sidewalk.
A bunch of sounds made their way to my ears.
First:
Mom yelling, “What the hell was that?”
Second:
Nina, our bus driver, blared the horn.
Three:
Corinne laughed.
I knew I was bleeding pretty good, but I had two options:
Stay or go.
Mom was fast approaching and I had just busted a window.
I ran to the bus.
Thing is:
Mom and Nina were good friends.
Nina pulled over and I got the best of both worlds.
They took care of my bloody cuts together.
Minutes later we were on our way.
John was laughing. It made me laugh.
Corinne was going to take the heat for slamming the door as I made my way through it.
“Laugh it up, little assholes,” she said.
Damn.
I can’t even follow a school bus, 45 years later, without a movie playing in my mind.
It’s a 90-minute drive through small towns, winding roads and farm communities. There appears to be a fair amount of poverty in those rural areas.
Lot of MAGA signs.
I got held up twice:
- By a horse & buggy
- By a slow-moving, massive tractor.
The sun was shining though and the music was good.
Then I got behind a school bus.
I suffered through 6 stops...
...at 5 of them the Mom came out to get the kid. They weren’t little kids.
I found it odd that Mom came out to get them.
Our Mom didn’t when we were young, and that’s nothing against my perfect Mom...
...Moms just didn’t do that then.
I didn’t think about it too much, nothing too heavy, but I distinctly recalled waiting for the bus, in the morning with Corinne and John.
We tortured my beautiful, older sister.
In fact, she called us names...
...’little assholes’ was one of her favorites.
Back in present day, the bus stopped in front of me and 3 kids bounded down the steps.
Two boys and a girl.
I thought of a morning when we were giving it to Corinne pretty good and we were also running late.
John was out front.
“Bus!” He yelled.
“Get out there,” Mom said. “I’m not driving you.”
Corinne ran down the hall and I followed her. She was mad at both me and John that morning, and she showed her anger by slamming the storm door as I was making my way through it.
I went straight through the glass and landed on the sidewalk.
A bunch of sounds made their way to my ears.
First:
Mom yelling, “What the hell was that?”
Second:
Nina, our bus driver, blared the horn.
Three:
Corinne laughed.
I knew I was bleeding pretty good, but I had two options:
Stay or go.
Mom was fast approaching and I had just busted a window.
I ran to the bus.
Thing is:
Mom and Nina were good friends.
Nina pulled over and I got the best of both worlds.
They took care of my bloody cuts together.
Minutes later we were on our way.
John was laughing. It made me laugh.
Corinne was going to take the heat for slamming the door as I made my way through it.
“Laugh it up, little assholes,” she said.
Damn.
I can’t even follow a school bus, 45 years later, without a movie playing in my mind.
Comments