High Heels and White Gloves

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It is the last night of my visit. My father and mother are in the den, watching CNN while I sit at the kitchen table writing. Time is flying by now. My bags aren't packed, but I never really unpack when I go somewhere. I tend to stay in my suitcase more than take everything out and lay it around...unless I'm going to be sticking around for awhile. Much longer than four days. I get up and begin to pack, putting this here and there, then taking a shower and getting ready to say goodbye.


I didn't enjoy myself now, as you can imagine. I want to stay with my family, to spend time with them, even though they live in a barren world. Ahoskie is a place where there is absolutely nothing to do. I mean, you all know that my life isn't exactly a ball of excitement as is. So why should a life in the boondocks be so bad? I can't tell you, but I just love New York City. I love the city because it is my home. It maybe the crappiest place to live, it certainly beats New Jersey hands down. I'd rather be drawn and quartered in New York than to live a single day in New Jersey.



That's how I feel. I also feel sad, now that my father is getting dressed and getting ready to drive me to the bus station. We are quiet. No one wants to say goodbye. The night has fallen and we drive in the darkness to the Green Apple gas station and I go in to get a luggage tag for my bag. Then I sit in the car with my parents, in stunned silence, until the bus roars in and my father and I get out. "This is probably the last time that you'll see me," he reaches out with his hand and I shake it. I want to hug him, draw him close, tell him how much I love him, but something stands in my way. "I'll be back," I tell him. "And you'll be here. Doctors don't know shit."
   

He laughs weakly. I take my bags and walk like a penguin to the bus whose driver is already out, talking mean to the passengers. He tells one women to get on the bus. He asks another if she has a ticket. When she says no, he tells her to get lost. He takes the bag and ticket from another woman and then turns to me. "Norfolk?" I nod, handing him my ticket. He snatches my bag, and in one fluid motion, lobs it into the open side of the bus cargo area. "Get on board." I nod and climb the steep stairs into the bus, finding a seat and trying to relax. My back begins to ache immediately.


With a jolt the bus moves off, and in moments it is rushing through the dark. I slouch and twist in my seat, but my back still hurts, now the pain rushing to my right testicle again. Striking pose after pose to get comfortable and to stop the pain, I continue to move until I find one and freeze. It's somewhat comfortable and I close my eyes, drifting off to sleep.



Later, I awaken to sore, throbbing knees. What the Hell did I do. My right hand is completely numb and in pain from resting against the aluminum side of the window. My knees, pressed up against the seats ahead of me protest, and to add insult to injury, my molars that I broke up into pieces are now beginning to throb in pain. Hey, when it rains it pours, right?  I dig into my bag and produce two Tylenol. Popping them, I get comfortable and find another pose to close my eyes in and drift off.


That's how I intend to fight my dread of people. By not seeing them. By falling to sleep and dreaming all of the way to New York. But I have to admit, the bus is practically empty. We sail into Norfolk and I get off at the depot. The next bus bound for New York is in another twenty minutes, so I take a leak in the rather clean men's room and then cop a squat on a bench until the bus driver arrives, opening the gate door. Everyone rises and we head to the bus, giving our ticket to the driver and our bags to the luggage carrier standing next to the bus.



I climb aboard, find a seat, sit my baby's bassinet, or my laptop back pack, in the seat next to mine and rest upon it. I close my eyes and wait for the comfortable tug of the bus pulling out of the station, turning and hitting the road, whipping about the city street corners as it negotiates its way to the highway.


Soon, it is barreling down the highway and the wind picks up allowing a hard rain to fall with a hiss. I close my eyes again. That's how I intend to deal with the people on the bus, the driving rain outside, the inevitable bus crash and my decapitation by a street sign....I intend to be asleep through the entire event.

Nighty Night,

HobobobSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2011/03/high-heels-and-white-gloves.html
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