I stand at the bus stop, en route to the city, waiting, looking up and down the street, where I have been, where I will go, remember the times before when I did the same thing, always when waiting, caught between the here and the now, and smile at another moment, a possible turning point in this life. Bus stops are markers for our lives, three types, stations, timed stops, and hailing stops, the latter where you have to flag down the driver. Bus stations are the most significant, represent life’s
The ULL bus stop is something students and faculty walk by and use every day. It is a very visible part of ULL and has been looked passed and it is apparent that it has been neglected for years. Our Action Project is focusing on not only adding on to the bus stop, but also the renewal of what is already there. Our project topic is something that is important because the current bus stop does not meet certain needs. When you are at the bus stop to go to Cajun Field and you look at the covering you
Emish Patel ID: 1080912 Thea 1331 Bus Stop Critique First thing first, I want to start of by saying that I really did enjoy the play. I went in thinking it might not be good but I was I wrong. Bus Stop, is written by William Inge and directed by Adam Noble, takes in small town few miles outside of Kansas City inside a dinner type restaurant. Because of bad weather and snow on the roads a bus is forced to stop there for almost a whole night. After watching the play I thought that the theme of the
World Cup Final - Personal Narrative Just as I scored a resplendent overhead kick in the rapidly decreasing extra time in the World Cup Final at Wembley the referee's shrill whistle announced the end of the match. England had won the World Cup!! The end of the match celebrations were beginning the crowd were on their feet singing in a joyous tone, the Germans were already out of the ground and on their way to the airport and all across England people were screaming YES! At their television
many African-Americans fought hard for their human rights, but did so peacefully. A crucial element of this movement was the freedom rides, where activists of both black and white races rode buses through the South, facing violent opposition at every stop. The South's ideal culture at the time was one where African-Americans were not allowed to move forward. This is an example of class conflict, where ruling classes discriminated against blacks and prevented them from riding the same buses as white
making a lot of money. As if she went under your skin and turned the windiest and rainiest day into something totally different. She just simply knew, how to run her business. She just simply knew, the honest recipe for the right attitude. On the bus stop, was standing a young mum with a little boy in a pram. The rain cover blocked his view and he was screaming, but his mum was peacefully inhaling the grey smell into her lungs and didn’t make a move. She was looking into a paddle. Not even the reflection
Bus Stop Analysis Bus Stop, starring Marilyn Monroe, is a 1956 film about a young rodeo star, Bo Deker, (Don Murray) who travels to Los Angeles for a rodeo. On his trip, his friend, Virgil (Arthur O'Connell), tells him that it is about time for him to start looking for a young woman to marry. Bo decides that he is going to find an angel for himself. Upon arriving in Los Angeles, Bo and Virgil decide they would go to a local saloon and relax a little before the rodeo. At the saloon, the Blue Dragon
of the Cross Country Team. In order to get to where I always party, Pheasant Run, I have to take the bus. This is where the night really starts. If I take the bus at 8, I am usually one of only a handful of people on the bus. Usually I go at 10, though, and it is quite evident that a party is going on somewhere. By ten Saturday night there are usually over a hundred students waiting at the bus stop. I don’t even bother dressing up; I prefer jeans and a tee-shirt with a pair of worn sneakers and a
Living with Epilepsy It was a cold, rainy day. I could see most of the kids at the bus stop had winter coats and hats. The clouds were particularly low in the sky. After evading the numerous puddles in the road, I reached the bus stop and walked up to a group of friends. A girl in my class spotted me and asked, "Are you going to the dance tomorrow?" I froze. I had forgotten about the dance and now was uncertain about whether I was going or not. "Yeah, probably," I answered. She nodded and we
and I am still waiting for the bus to leave the station. I'm so excited about my trip to Texas. It seems very odd because I'm only on the bus with 3 other people; the bus driver and a mother and her young daughter. The Driver He is a short man with white wavy hair and a long white beard. He reminds me of Santa Clause but I am sure that Santa doesn't carry cigarettes in his shirt pocket like this guy does. He keeps looking in the mirror at the people on the bus; almost like he was analyzing them
We were both starting new schools, but he was starting in a new country as well. I arrived at our new high school an hour early, and the first thing that struck me was a boy my age with shockingly bright blonde hair. I went to sit with him at the bus stop in hopes of striking up a conversation and perhaps making a friend. We sat side by side for sometime until we acknowledge the other's presence with quick glances. Finally I decided I was the one who had to take the first step. "Nice backpack
three times and he looked like he got angry. But that was about it. It was a boring travel home and I couldn't wait to get back. We arrived at the school at about 6pm and I went straight to the bus stop. Waited for the 134 again with Aristos for about 10 minuets. We briefly summarised the day, then he bus came. I got on and went and sat down.
Part One: While waiting for the bus on a cold and snowy January morning, I decided to engage with the first part of the assignment. Waiting for the bus has been a daily occurrence that has occupied much my time for many years now. It has been a monotonous task that is typically paired with impatience for the arrival of the bus, and anxious anticipation for what is in store for the day. This assignment made my morning more interesting, as I glanced around the bus stop, questioning where and how particular
The Phone Call - Short Story She ran, not knowing where she was heading. The only thoughts in her head at that time were "Must run! Must keep going. Can't stop!" She was starting to regret eating the snack earlier. As she hardly ate a thing, the tiniest morsel of food could seem like she had eaten a three course meal. But if she had known before about what was going to happen she would have lost her minute appetite. But she couldn't have known it was going to go pear-shaped, could she?
than most of the outside world. Jerry Renault, the main character in the novel, has lived a rough life, especially in the last year or so. He is mostly kept to himself and not to outspoken because of his mothers death. A hippie tells Jerry at the bus stop something that gets him thinking. Jerry then soon participates in a Vigil stunt of not participating in a chocolate sale that takes place at Trinity, which is a school tradition and helps to pay for different material things at Trinity. After his
This could just be the worst day of my life; I’ve been dreading this day for the past few months. Moving day; it was just five months ago when my family told me the awful news. I just recently finished my sophomore year in high school, became captain of the varsity basketball team and finally got the girl of my dreams, Julie. Only to have it ruined by my parents telling me that we have to move due to my father getting a new job in Astoria, Oregon. The house or ‘cemetery’ as I referred to it is called
volunteer. It was only after getting the date and time arranged that I realized that the museum was not in the nearby area and I would have to work out transportation. On the first day (of two days), I was able to take the bus to South Campus, the metro to the end of the line, and then a bus to within a five minute walk of the museum. Signing in was rather simple, just my signature and time started required. It must have been apparent that I had never been to the museum before because the woman I had talked
We’ve all seen them before. Maybe at a bus stop, in our schools, or at the coffee shop. “They” look odd enough to frighten a circus clown, but for some reason, they always smile when you look their way. Perhaps it’s that their hair is the color of the sunset or that their pants look like they could house a small family. It could be that their headphones seem permanently glued to their ears and that they’re never afraid to groove on the sidewalk. Whatever the reason, you know that “they” are not quite
minutes a went back to sleep. By next morning I had forgotten all about the dream. That morning , I was late as usual. I ran to the bus stop with my briefcase. My tie flew in the morning wind. Only thing that I hoped was that I would not be late to work, I had been warned couple of times about me being late. Luckily the bus too was late as usual. As I was boarding the bus I looked up for a vacant seat. What I saw then was qu...
her bike on the streets of Barnacle. But Monday morning she strolls down Barton Avenue heading to the French bakery, the sweet-eatery, her favorite spot, to pick up a loaf of bread and croissants. Further, south on Barton Avenue, Fanny once a month stops at the Epicurean store craving for a small order besides a complementary treat from the buffet as she lives on a tight budget on such fancy food. Monday morning, when she enters the Epicurean deli shop she finds a display of freshly prepared colorful