DO NOT miss the bus

When we got to high school, yellow school busses seemed to be a thing of the past. As young adults now and have been told if we wanted to get to school, we had to take the “big girl” bus to get there… the OC Transpo. I completely understand now why Sheldon had his bus pants… public transportation is an efficient way to get around, and is a smaller carbon footprinted way to sit next to people who are clipping their toe nails and smell like urine….eeewwwww David!!

Thank gawd for the 161 SPECIAL bus that was dedicated to us Duke of York students, so it was all our friends on the bus who lived in our neighbourhood. It drove the same route as the regular 161 but only picked up us kids – then instead of turning around, it would take us right to the front door of our school. And at the end of grade 9 we had the system mastered.

I picked up the bus at the top of McMurray and Castlebrook. It was a 5 minute walk uphill to the stop since we lived at the bottom on Carsons Bridge. If I missed that bus... holy mother of gawd did I have to book it. If only there was an alarm that could warn me if I was late, that could fit in my pocket, tell time, and keep my schedule organized. My only hope now was to make it to June’s bus stop (at Portsmith and McMurray) before the bus. This meant I needed to morph now into an elite athlete and perform the perfect 10 steeple chase performance under 8 minutes wearing heavy book filled backpack that put a military weighted ruck sack to shame.

Maybe this is where my anxiety was stemmed from? Something else to discuss in therapy - noted.

I remember the feeling of seeing the bus drive by the top of Carsons Bridge and giving myself almost instantaneous whiplash. I turned around so fast and started running as though I was being chased by a bear. I was not going to be late! I couldn’t! My mom would never in a million years sign a note or take a call from the school as to my being late… she would put me in an early grave. And not a nice one, just a hole dug in the ground where I was only allowed to come out if I learned my lesson, had to walk the dog or clean my room.

I’m running now. I’m a short and curvy 14-year-old with the breast size of a quebecois stripper on a Thursday night. I’m quick, but distance running, and I have always had a love hate relationship. Between asthma, and short legs, I had to persevere. I booked it down Carsons Bridge and entered the side driveway of the Dangerford apartments. I knew this short cut like the back of my hand, as June was my BFF and we would travel between our two homes daily since grade 6. I ran through the parking lot dodging parked cars and shrubberies. I got to the other side and through the trees – I can see Portsmith! I crossed the path and cut down the path by Rayner's house. I’m still running… turning the bend at Jemma's house… I see it now…. I see June's house! My spidy senses are telling me I’m going to make it. I’m not going to be late. I’m not going to be killed by my mom. There’s JUNE!!

I stopped at the stop sign across from her house, as now I can see the bus stop. Kids are still there. Remind yourself, never to pick up smoking – you can’t hack it… until grade 11 that is…

I’m finally on the bus. There aren’t any seats now, as our stop is one of the first on the route to school. By the way, that bus came at 7:25am. Might as well have been dawn to a young teenager. And now, at the age of 42, I feel like I’ve lost half my day if I sleep in past 7am.

Ok, so we’re in high school now. Our schedules have changed drastically from what we knew at Katemavek. No more starting school at 9am, sleeping in, not caring if we missed the bus then walking slowly up Cukula (not in 6 ft of snow and barefoot – well sometimes yes because my mom was a teacher and if she went to school on a snow day, so did we – then the 6ft barefoot thing applies), in my case it was with my skort skirt portion tucked into the arse of my bicycle shorts… again another story to discuss in therapy. Le sigh.

Anyways, our first class now started at 8:17am. Then we had home form where they took our attendance – which in retrospect kind of explains why a lot of people missed first period. Hello free pass since our official attendance wasn’t for another 42 mins = sleep in – noohhhh wait – breakfast a Rockin’ Bobbie’s! Best home fries EVER! Even to this day – with their super crispy, small, gently bbq seasoned little pockets of joy on my plate that went extremely well with ketchup and sunny-side up eggs.

Our school was considered a more elite school with well-off kids, greatly funded arts, theatre and sports programs, and the only schools with an actual auditorium. Cafetoriums were for the rival schools. We also were not semestered and had 9 classes in a year instead of the 4 and 4 today. And our schedule didn’t change come the new year. We had allllll 9 classes spread out in a week and broken down by Day 1, Day 2 and Day 3 schedules. Classes were about 42 minutes long with a 3 minute change between classes.

We’d all bring our backpacks and so on to the last class, as the rush out of the school when the last bell rang was like the running of the bulls in Pamplona. Everyone wanted a seat on the bus for the loooooong ride over the 417 during rush hour to our respective homes. Now I just sit in my car for looooooong traffic delays to and from the office. The only difference this time, nobody smells like urine.

The lesson here kids, is you can do it. You can take the bus. It's a great form of transportation that's affordable and freeing. Your parents are not chauffeurs but if the bus isn't your jam, throw your parents a couple of bucks for gas money from time to time or offer to wash the car. Kindness from a young age goes a long way with us old folks.

Love,
​Patricia