Many people came on the bus taking up the remanding seats. One white man was left without a seat, and he went back up to the bus driver. Suddenly the bus driver got up and came over to my row on the bus. "Everyone, you must move to the back so that this gentleman can have a seat," said the bus driver. Everyone in my row glanced at each other, but we all remained seated.
Throughout the 25 minute bus ride, I could feel the nerves radiating off of the 30 something teens and adults. We quickly learned to savor these bus rides, no matter how uncomfortable, as they provided the only escape from the Jamaican heat and humidity, that hung over us heavily wherever we went. Rolling into the village, the first person we saw was a boy, no more than 13 years old, flipping us off while smoking a joint. Looking at those sitting around me, I could see the surprise and astonishment, as well as apprehension towards how the rest of the people living in the small town would act and how receptive they would be to us being there. Stepping off of the bus, the humidity hit me like a wall.
In the Bean Tree men see what they want to see but don't see it from a woman's perspective. Lou Ann is on a bus and she is reading a pamphlet about woman's pregnancy. “On the bus she decided it must have something to do with the fact that the pamphlets were put together by men, who in her opinion liked the looks of a mother and baby better than a pregnant woman. She was fairly sure about this. On the bus, for instance, several men would stand up to offer her a seat, but they wouldn't quite look at her.
Soon more and more white people started boarding the bus, the bus driver told all the black people sitting in the middle row to go to the back. They all got up except for Rosa. She didn’t back down she sat there the whole way home. In the chapter, “Twenty years gone, and I am back again” of the Odyssey, Odysseus shows bravery while planning to come back home with his son Telemachus, “If they make fun of me in my courtyard, let your ribs cage up your spring heart, no matter what I suffer no matter if they pull me by the heels, or practice shots at me to drive me out. Look on hold your anger” (Homer 900).
Therefore, he made the smart decision to ride the Greyhound bus across the country. Of course, taking the bus is a bit out of style for most people, but it still remains a way to really get to know America and people. The Unusual Levitt realize that most people prefer other modes of travel by plane, train, or even their own vehicle. The people that he met on the bus were generally people that were struggling to just survive. He plans to compose songs and write books about his journey.
I walked out the bus and I started walking around I met this girl her name was Grace. I walked up to her and she was playing this game with her older brother and she saw me and ran up and gave me the biggest hug ever. She told me her name and I then started a conversation with her. I then realized that her clothes were all beaten up and were very muddy. I asked if I could take her to the bus and give her some clothes we had brought to give out as we were walking to the bus I asked her to explain what her normal day looked liked and the only thing she said was my day is “always good”.
One of my most cherished memories is some of my color guard and practices like my first day or when we were the half time show for the football game. i remember my first day of color guard clearly it was the summer after sixth grade i was officially a seventh grader I was so exited my dad dropped me off at the high school and made the worst pun ever so what color are you guarding i think you'll get purple i rolled my eyes and said that's not how it works and left there were so many people since for the first two weeks the high school guard and middle school guard work together to get to know the basic moves and get into the groove of things i remember the first thing we learned was i drop spin for me it was the hardest thing in the world but
I was in a semi-asleep state of mind when the bus finally pulled up to Rosedale Park; my arm was mildly chafed from sleeping against the seat handle and the heated earbuds swiveled uncomfortably in its squeezed position against my ear canal. Fluctuating feelings of dread and anticipation washed over me as I took in the fact that I was about to race my first 5K of the season after not having run for half of a week due to my metatarsal injury. As I ripped the earphones off from my ears and shoved the cross-country spikes and stale mini-pretzels in the crumpled, pale-white paper bag, I tried to settle my blenching nerves. Recalling the dozens of starting gunshots and striders along the grasslands and tracks did not help in the slightest. I was consumed by self-deprecating thoughts: thoughts about letting down and having the whole effort be in vain, thoughts about shriveling into a crouching quitter in the middle of the race, clobbered down by asthma.
My dad had been with me all my life, to think that in a few short hours that my dad would be on a bus to the airport was heartbreaking. One memory I distinctly remember of my dad was when he took me to the daddy daughter dance. It was a couple of months before he left for Afghanistan. I remember getting all dressed up in a lime green dress with pretty pink flowers on it. I felt like a princess in it.