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The importance of public transportation
The importance of public transportation
The importance of public transportation
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The boy ran down the stairs, always in a rush to get on the train, especially because the L.A. Metro only ran every 20 minutes. His dad, far behind, calls to him to slow down. The boy ignores him, steps on the train and holds the door open with his puny, miniscule, tween hand. He can see his dad running, moving as fast as he can, feet always at the same pace. The door closed. His dad wasn’t on the train.
The boy’s face stuck to the door and his jaw dropped as he watched the North Hollywood station fade away, en route to Hollywood and Highland. He heard the buzzing sounds of people laughing at him. His shoulders sank, fear running through his veins. He had never ridden the Metro alone. His phone buzzed and he jumped up from his seat. Father calling. Decline. Phone rang, Decline. Text. Call. Tweet. Tumblr. Alert. Instagram. Buzz. Text. Decline, all of them. Because he was in a place he never wanted to leave.
The train didn’t stop at Hollywood and Highland. The boy watched it go by the bright streets of Sunset Blvd with its neon signs, the dull intersection of Lankershim and Cahue...
Orphan trains and Carlisle and the ways people from the past undermined the minorities and children of America. The film "The orphan Trains" tells us the story of children who were taken from the streets of New York City and put on trains to rural America. A traffic in immigrant children were developed and droves of them teamed the streets of New York (A People's History of the United States 1492-present, 260). The streets of NYC were dirty, overcrowded, and dangerous. Just as street gangs had female auxiliaries, they also had farm leagues for children (These are the Good Old Days, 19). During the time of the late 1800's and early 1900's many people were trying to help children. Progressive reformers, often called "child saver," attempted to curb exploitation of children (The American Promise, 834). One of the people who was obsessed with the plight of children was a man named Charles Brace. He created the NY "Children's Aid Society". This was a program that was best known for "Orphan Trains". In 1853, Brace founded this society to arrange trips, raise the money, and obtain legal permission needed for relocation (the Orphan trains, 1). The reaction to the orphan trains were both positive and negative.
Thomas lived with his family in a two story house in Windy Hill. He had a little brother names Frankie and a dog named Max. One autumn morning, Thomas jumped out of bed and stared out the window at the quiet cobblestone streets below. Leaves the colors of a brilliant sunset glided and danced along the streets edge, playing a rustling tune. Thomas smiled, he couldn’t wait to see the vending trucks pulling up outside, and the town folks hurrying about as they prepared the streets for the Festival Of Ghouls.
The noir style is showcased in Sunset Boulevard with its use of visually dark and uncomfortable settings and camera work, as well as its use of the traditional film noir characters. In addition, the overall tone and themes expressed in it tightly correspond to what many film noirs addressed. What made this film unique was its harsh criticism of the film industry itself, which some of Wilder’s peers saw as biting the hand that fed him. There is frequent commentary on the superficial state of Hollywood and its indifference to suffering, which is still a topic avoided by many in the film business today. However, Sunset Blvd. set a precedent for future film noirs, and is an inspiration for those who do not quite believe what they are being shown by Hollywood.
As Monday morning rolled along, Molly gathered all her stuff at the door and yelled for her parents to hurry or she’d be late to catch the bus at school. With all her things stacked in the trunk of the car, her dad could hardly see past her purple suitcase in the rearview mirror, yet that didn't stop him from driving. When Molly and her family pulled up to the parking lot, it was packed with other seniors and their families, they had to park at the back near the entrance gate which was farther away from the bus she needed to go
As my family piled into our car for our four-hour drive, I sincerely hoped my brothers wouldn’t ruin the best chance that we’ve had in a long time. They were already arguing about who got what video game, and were not making my mom and dad feel any better about going. We were going to Illinois, to Chicago, to be even more specific. Chicago was the city I’d been dreaming about visiting for a long time. (Well, that and New York.) I could not believe that my parents were getting out of their comfort zone and taking us to a big city.
Sunset Boulevard (Wilder 1950) explores the intermingling of public and private realms, puncturing the illusion of the former and unveiling the grim and often disturbing reality of the latter. By delving into the personal delusions of its characters and showing the devastation caused by disrupting those fantasies, the film provides not only a commentary on the industry of which it is a product but also a shared anxiety about the corrupting influence of external perception. Narrated by a dead man, centering on a recluse tortured by her own former stardom, and concerning a once-promising director who refuses to believe his greatest star could ever be forgotten, the work dissects a multitude of illusory folds to reveal an ultimately undesirable truth. Its fundamental conflict lies in the compartmentalization that allows the downtrodden to hope and carry on. Sunset Boulevard carefully considers the intricate honeycombs of dishonesty and deception that constitute a human life, then dissolves the barriers and watches the emotions, lies, and self-contradictions slurry together and react in often volatile and destructive ways.
Public transportation is one of those things that we trust will get us from point A to point B with no problems. We occasionally hear stories about planes crashing or trains derailing, but we shrug it off, thinking that it could never happen to us. These thoughts run through Luke’s mind as he arrives at the station. He puts the car in park and removes the keys from the ignition. Luke gets out of the car and heads toward the building, the air feeling as warm as it did the last time he was here. He pauses for a moment; it is days like this that he is reminded of that fateful day last summer.
“Ding dong”. Anna stares at her computer and ignores the doorbell that just rang. The summer night breezes briskly whorls through the neighborhood of Mount Laurel. She was too obsessed with her coding homework and her computer coding class project. “Ding dong”. Anna rushes over to the door in hopes of it being her babysitter, Jamie. She opens the door and a low and behold, it’s Jamie. As soon as Jamie walked inside, Anna’s parents remind them to be safe and don’t answer the front door. Mr. and Mrs. Smith were going out into the city for the night and left Anna alone with her babysitter, Jamie. Once the parents left, Jamie called her boyfriend, Chris, to come and pick them up. While they waited for Chris to come, Anna and Jamie blasted music and jammed out to their favorite songs in Anna’s bedroom. They shouted out of her window and laughed so hard. Chris called Jamie on his phone to come down. They hopped in his navy blue Honda and drove off without a care in the world.
The moment you turned eighteen, I received fourteen text messages. I swear, I could feel those words climbing down my throat, squeezing my heart and filling up my lungs. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I dropped my phone- and I was standing on the subway, heading downtown. An old man dressed in black to mourn his wife took a step back and shattered the screen into eight pieces.
The rain drops raced down the side of Tom’s office window. Collecting his blue prints he took a moment and looked out at the overcast skies. Another rainy day in Pittsburgh he thought. He proceeds to put on his coat, grabs the umbrella standing in the corner and leaves. Walking outside, he joins the waves of people also getting off working and heading home. Tom took the T home every day from his work on Wood Street to his home on Beagle Dr. He waited in the terminal stoic just staring ahead as he usually does. Holding his blueprints and brief case in opposite hands he listens to the conversations around him. People small talking about the weather, work, or about how big their kids have gotten. Conversations would pause as the trains passed
He looks under a parked truck. He pulls his phone out of his pocket. There are no new messages. He continues jogging down the street. In the distance he sees the park. He begins to run faster. When he arrives, he sees the small boy and the dog in the grass. He runs up to them and crouches down. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a thin rope leash. He hooks it to the dog's collar and pats the dog's head. The two of them walk back towards the sidewalk. The dog looks back at the boy, but the man tugs his collar and he follows. The small boy begins to cry. There is a middle-aged woman sitting on a bench. She comes over and picks the boy up. She hushes him while rocking him in her
“OhmygodwhatifsomethinghappenswhataboutmythingsIwantMommy-” I blabbered until Shania Bognot slapped her free hand over my mouth before I could burst out into a mental breakdown, furrowing her eyebrows at me. “Shut your mouth,” she said, slightly glaring at me as I smiled sheepishly from behind her hand. We boarded the bus and sat down, me with the window seat as we put down our bags. “BYE MOM!” I said, waving to her through the window of the bus. “BYE HONEY!” She replied , smiling at me. The bus slowly started to move towards the entrance of the school, ready to depart to the location. I looked to Shania, who was staring out the window over my shoulder, sending a small wave to her mom.
People shouted over the deafening sound of the subway racing through the tunnels in an attempt to transport people as quickly as possible. Businessmen and women in dark suits rushed by me, late for a meeting. Families like ours entered the station, on their way to a museum. Tourists stared at the maps on the walls, vainly trying to decipher the confusing colored lines and symbols that were the subways stops. My mom handed me a yellow card that had “Metro” written across it in large blue letters. My dad went through the gate first, and then my mom helped my younger sister and I maneuver the gate as she followed us through. I swiped the card and pushed my way through the gate as quickly as I could, not wanting to get left behind for being slow. Grabbing onto my mom’s hand, I made the leap over the gaping chasm between the dirty floor of the station to the subway car. People were everywhere, every little space taken up by a human or a bag. With one hand I gripped the slick silver pole on the subway, the other one wrapped around my mom’s hand. I was super close to random strangers I did not
She slammed the door behind her. Her face was hot as she grabbed her new perfume and flung it forcefully against the wall. That was the perfume that he had bought for her. She didn't want it anymore. His voice coaxed from the other side of the door. She shouted at him to get away. Throwing herself on the bed and covering her face with one of his shirts, she cried. His voice coaxed constantly, saying Carol, let me in. Let me explain.' She shouted out no!' Then cried some more. Time passed with each sob she made. When she caught herself, there was no sound on the other side of the door. A long silence stood between her and the door. Maybe she had been too hard on him, she thought. Maybe he really had a good explanation. She hesitated before she walked toward the door and twisted the handle. Her heart was crying out to her at this moment. He wasn't there. She called out his name. "Thomas!" Her cries were interrupted by the revving of an engine in the garage. She made it to the window in time to see his Volvo back out the yard. "Thomas! Thomas....wait!" Her cries vanished into thin air as the Volvo disappeared around the bend. Carol grew really angry all of a sudden. How could he leave? He'll sleep on the couch when he gets back. Those were her thoughts.
The school bell rang right at 3:35 PM dismissing all students home. As most students headed home, Anthony would stay after school working on homework, not wanting to leave school. This was due to “Home” being a place that was completely uncertain for Anthony. This became especially true towards the end of his senior year at Los Angeles Senior High School. His father suffered from alcoholism. This problem led to Anthony’s father being laid off and after selling everything they owned, Anthony’s family was kicked out of their small studio apartment in the MacArthur Park area of Los Angeles. At this point in life he and his family had found shelter inside the three doors of his mother’s mini van. As the last month of high school approached, Anthony found comfort and distraction from all his family’s problem’s in life through doing what he loved most, math and science related problems. This is just one life experience out of the many I went through growing up. I am Anthony.