Light white snowflakes are falling through the little crack in the bus window, softly settling onto my seat, and I am sick of it. The light from all the cars around me on the highway makes their way through the night fog to my retinas, blinding me while I'm trying to do my algebra homework.
No sight can put me in a good mood on this day. Or night, rather, since I'm supposed to be home by five o'clock, and now it's nine. I've tried to pull up my window multiple times, but the snowflakes are able to fit through the crack and dampen the pages of my notebook since we are going slower as a slug.
Why are these drivers so bad at driving? I would like it if titles actually meant something. If you're a cook, you should be good at cooking. If you're a teacher, you should be good at teaching. But for some reason, it's okay to be a driver and bad at driving. When I get my license in two years- actually one and a half years now- I'll be better than this. What bozo thought to drive at two miles per hour and hold everyone back?
“Okay everyone,” the bus driver hollers. She's standing up, which would be really unsafe in any other circumstance, but it's not like anything's happening anyways. “I'm going to go onto a side road since we're all tired and want to go home. I'm hoping there's less traffic than on the highway, but we'll see.”
Finally, we're getting off the highway. About time. I'm looking around, half these people are asleep, and the other half are completely brain dead. Not me. I can't turn my brain off at night, I'm just not that type of person.
Hold on, what the hell is that? Great, some jerk turned on the sun on the front of his car. Why is it green though?