Something Eerily Familiar

There is something eerily familiar about this mode of transit. Sitting in a huddled position, knees pressed against the back of the seat, it actually makes me feel small again. A sign on the ceiling of the bus, "No bullying" serves as a reminder that this schoolbus, now deemed unsafe for transporting small American children, was at one time shuttling elementary schoolers some 15 years ago in a small town in Minnesota. Apparently, it is safe enough to transport upwards of a hundred Hondurans.

The bus exudes  all of the smells that I have always experienced as associated with schoolbuses.... a healthy mix of plastic from the leather seats, a leftover sticky candy smell from the hands of grubby-children-past, and a suffocating diesel haze. This bus also has smells that  that I don't quite remember from my elementary school days. The stale odor coming from a sweaty middle aged man, that is squeezed in 3 to a seat next to me. A diaper that is in desperate need of being changed and sticky spicy chili mango.

On no other form of transport can you expect to see a man with a painted clown face (accompanied by son in clown face) attempting to sell you hair gel, live chickens, a man verbally accosting you with readings from the bible, and an exposed breast with a 5 year old child latched on to it. You, chicken bus, are truly special.