




Public transportation is somewhat of a new phnomona to me. I’m ashamed to say that never before have I boarded a city bus with the intent to ride anywhere short of a UNC basketball game. Alas, my recent excursion via a GTA city bus has broken this sheltered cycle. My first impression of this public transportation was revealed to me following the hiss of the bus doors.
“Get on the bus!” barked the toad-faced woman behind the wheel. She scowled as my friends and I fumbled with our student IDs, stomping on the gas before we could even comprehend nearby seats. Getting oriented, I realized that the attitude of the bus driver was not too far a cry from those seated around us. Someone was snapping, bitterly, at their cell phone as another couple groaned about personal problems. Many patrons swayed, hypnotized, to the beat of their iPods, lip syncing to the distant droan that drifted from their earbuds. Others were engaged in deep thought, bumping along silently to the rhythm of the bus. And then there was our group; a sore thumb, a glowing beacon of ignorance. Well, perhaps without our intent fixation with our surroundings- staring, taking photos- we could have better settled into the dismal atmosphere. We, the white college kids, seems foreign those around us. We were completely separated from this world- segregated, if you will. These people did this daily and to us, this was an adventure. With very little thought, I realized the irony of the situation. Since the1960s, something had changed drastically. The fact is, people prefer to take their own cars, pinning a sore reputation upon a public transportation system that has long been a symbol of historical of significance. It is all too true that, after years of fighting for desegregation and peace, we all sit, segregated and ill, all the while finding this preferable. Something has certainly been lost over time, perhaps something we should rediscover.