You can’t imagine how thrilling & relieving it is knowing that my last lecture is over. A feeling well known for most university students, if not all. It would be fascinating to hide somewhere and locate such young faces full with absolute joy; it would indeed be eye candy!

So a hectic day of lectures is over, and I survived it. I managed to get through all the nosy glances, sarcastic comments, and some serious brain straining classes. All I can think of is home, sweet home. I just want to get there, I’d do anything to get there.I walk with steady steps, heading towards the main gate. And finally I am outside the university campus. My car should be parked around here, that is, if I had one. Ah, moment of truth: I, dear reader, do not own a car. Unlike many of my more privileged colleagues, I have to get home by other means of transportation. That’s always a bus!

Fortunately, the bus stop is close by. But oh, there’s no bus there. I have to walk some 300 meters so that I can catch a bus, you see, my fellow students have developed some sort of maneuver over the days. Why wait for the bus? They thought. We’ll go “get” the bus. Thus, this bus stop is merely a cliché. So I walk, again. But this time I am frustrated. I walk until my legs can’t anymore, then I stop, and wait.“Here comes the bus!” shouts my little heart with joy.

My eyes widen and I get excited. But the bus stops before it reaches me, a bunch of girls hop in. and a terrifying notion reveals itself, what if there is no place left for me? I need to go home! Please god, one empty place for poor old me. I pray and repeat my prayers over and over again. The bus begins to move again, and the driver definitely notices me standing by the street. I signal him and the bus stops. The world becomes a brighter place all of a sudden. I am finally going home.I take a quick look inside the bus to check for any empty places, I find one and I seat myself with pure content. I think I can relax now, the hard part is over. I’m in the bus, and I’m on my way home.

Could there be more to ask for? The answer shortly comes rushing, YES!My friend the bus makes yet another stop. Strange, because I don’t see any room left for anybody. Some girls get in, and “The control” directs one of them to squeeze herself next to me. “Sit there, next to your sister” he says. I find this terribly unpleasant. But I, out of politeness, move a bit so that she can semi-sit next to me. My arms are squeezed against the window and I can’t move them. I can’t even grab my wallet to get the necessary change. Now I know what else is there for me to ask for, I demand my personal space!As the bus moves slowly, and with as many number of stops as you can possibly think of, I just can’t help but watch my sitting partner’s moves. The way she’s dressed, what color is her purse, and I wonder what on earth made her choose those shoes. I think of many possible answers, which can all be summed up in only one reason. She has a really lousy taste.

I take a general look at every other girl in the bus, and I proudly reassure myself that I’m the most stylish girl around.I totally forget “why” I’m in this bus in the first place. And some dilemma presents itself in the driver’s and control’s actions. Why did they take extra passengers? How much more money could they possibly make out of this deal? Not enough to pay for the ticket they’ll get if a policeman notices this, that’s for sure. Do they do it out of pity? I’d often hear them discussing whether they will or will not take a certain passenger, the control would always be sympathetic with girls. He’d stress that “she needs to go home to help her mother” & I’m not making this up!

So here I am, faced with such a major enigma while on my way home. My mind wonders: Am I really dealing with a materialistic situation? If so, then why do they normally ignore most of the guys? Or is it more ethical than I think it is? Do the leaders of the bus take girls because they feel it necessary to “save” the girls from the streets? .. My partner moves, she demands more of my personal space. And she seizes it. I shrink.I remember having shared a seat with some girls. I am guilty of doing so. My only excuse is that my last lecture was really late, so I’d technically “jump” at any available bus. I didn’t mind squeezing myself next to people, because I’ve been squeezed, too. Call it my way of taking revenge, call it my sin. When squeezed, I often question myself, did I pay my 15 precious piasters to be seated this way? Don’t I ,by paying this sum of money, have the right to sit and enjoy the ride, instead of being glued to the window?

It seems endless, the journey home. I stare out of the smudgy glass and struggle to get the sufficient sum of money to pay for this wonderful ride. Is that music? No, it’s simply what the driver “thinks” music is. All I hear is some major annoying noise. Funny how tastes differ, no?We’re getting closer to where I live. I let out a sigh. The bus stops for the last time, as far as I’m concerned. The expression on my face is indefinable, a most bizarre combination of happiness, anxiety, disgust & relief all together. I get off……

P.S: This I wrote in July,2003. It was published in “Blossoming Writers” which was a journal that celebrates the writings of the students in my university. Sadly enough,we had to stop publishing the journal (which was strictly on campus) due to “administrative complications”.