Friday, December 18, 2009

Tales of the bus

ROMANCE OF THE BUS

Charlottesville people with an empty afternoon and a desire for a mild adventure could do worse than take a ride on the number 3 bus through Belmont. Chances are, it will take you through parts of the city you never knew existed and, as the bus drags itself, gasping, up the steep hills, around the tight corners and through the trailer parks of the Hogwaller before plunging down the big hill into Belmont proper, you feel a little like you're on an amusement park ride--especially if you sit in the elevated section at the back of the bus.

I noticed that the Charlottesville Transit Service website has a poetry contest listed. Isn't that so completely in character for Charlottesville? For a moment I felt inspired to write a poem about the number 3 bus and its pootling little route, but then I noticed the deadline expired November 30--and it had already been extended for an extra month. What? No rush of C'ville citizens submitting poetry about the romance of the bus?

JUST SAY NO

Mr. McP, as I have ranted before, is taking DARE at school right now. It's taught by the guidance counseler, who in the grand tradition of guidance counselors everywhere, is completely off her rocker. The other day, the teacher rewarded the class with candy canes. According the Mr. McP, one child refused a candy cane. Here is his description of the conversation that ensued.

Child: No thanks, I don't want a candy cane.
DARE teacher: Oh, come on, you earned it! Take one.
Child: No, I'm really not supposed to eat candy.
DARE teacher: You can have one, it's OK.
Child: No, really, I can't.
DARE teacher: This is just between you and the candy cane.

Um, mixed messages much? What if you crossed out candy cane and inserted, I don't know, CRACK?

AT LEAST SHE RECYCLES HER STYROFOAM

We noticed this sign, posted on neighbor Beehive's lawn.


Awesome. Totally awesome. This is why I don't ever want to live in a neighborhood with a Homeowner's Association. But I am disappointed that my photograph cuts out most of the tiny American flag she stuck into the top of the sign.

Speaking of Beehive, she called my house the other day and spoke to Mad Scientist. She told him that she saw a man sitting in a parked car, and that this was suspicious and that she had called the police. She was "concerned," you see, because this man may have been a pedophile and since I let Mr. McP walk all the way home from the bus by himself--he will be 11 in February-- she felt it her duty to let me know about the danger he was exposed to. She meant well, but the sting in her concern was the implication that I am a bad mother for letting my ten year old son walk half a block home from the bus stop with no supervision.  When I was ten, I was babysitting my younger siblings and cooking the family dinner with no adult help.

4 comments:

  1. Your neighbor is a real piece of work.

    You're right about that guidance counselor; she's night, but also a little off her rocker.

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  2. I would have started to worry about what was in that candy cane.

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  3. Maybe the Dare teacher was testing him. And he passed!

    Beebonnet sounds like a pretty spectacular neighbor.

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  4. Or not exposed to, as it were (hahaha). What a neighbor. What a DARE instructor. I think there's a poem in that somewhere if you can't find it on the bus!

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