Cinderella's Chariot

The bus started with a familiar roar, and we excitedly steadied ourselves for the inevitable lurching motion that always seemed to accompany its labored movement. As it groaned to gain momentum, the noxious fumes from the diesel engine billowing up behind the bus. For a moment its dark tendrils began to creep inside the back windows of the bus, before rushing out again to envelope the group of floundering parents that I assume were waving goodbye. It’s unclear if that was really the case, or if it was that they were just simply trying to dissipate the toxic cloud they now found themselves engulfed in. At any rate, whatever they were doing, they did it in earnest.

Ah yes, Cinderella had her chariot, but I had my big yellow bus. Her's carried her to the Ball, whereas mine would just carry me away...

I had a whole host of firsts on the bus. I had my first crush on a girl on a bus, and subsequently had my first kiss from a girl, (other than my mother), on a bus, (albeit just a quick peck on the cheek).

My first fight was on a bus. My first swear word was learned on a bus. My first cigarette, dirty picture, and joke were all experienced on a bus.

The bus was a gloriously inappropriate and sinful place to spend one’s time, and I could simply not get enough of it.

On this particular day, the bus had no sooner begun to rumble away from the milling cluster of parents before I began to get undressed. It was a practiced disrobing, superficial in its nature, but before mere moments had passed I had transformed into what I thought was cool, hip and happening. Nobody seemed to care or notice as they were all in the middle of their own make over's, changing themselves into what they wanted to be.

Painter’s cap cocked sideways on my head, with sun flaps hanging awkwardly down the back, fat colored shoelaces in my untied Nikes left gaping wide open, the same colored shoe laces tied around my legs, bandanas on my wrist, and a shirt... the shirt.

This was no ordinary shirt. This was one of those shirts that all the great break dancers wore on TV. It had poufy short sleeves, that bound tight around the arm, a 3 button opening half way down the sternum revealing a white mesh material underneath, and it was Electric Blue.

I so badly wanted to be like the character ‘Ozone’ from the early 80’s cult classic movie ‘Breakdance’. Dancing on the corner, impressing the girls, and battling against the bad guys in the neighborhood... if I was going to try to be anything, it was going to be a break dancing hero.

And my big yellow chariot would take me there...

I and my friends were off. Didn’t matter where, or when, we were just gone, and we were thrilled to be leaving. The bus transported me away from where I was a complete screw up, insecure and gawky, to where I could be anybody I wanted to be. I could be headed to school, on a field trip, or to summer camp, it didn’t matter. The joy was in the leaving, and in the being something new and different.

I wonder… if Cinderella’s chariot turned into a pumpkin at midnight… what would my chariot turn into? The obvious answer is a Yellow squash, but I’d rather envision something a little more stream lined and elegant… maybe Butter Nut.

But I digress...