| by Jill Vernon | 3/09/07 | 254 views |
When I awoke, I saw that a torrential downpour was raining misery upon the streets of Newark, Delaware. Students were not walking; rather, they were gathering their oars and their paddle boats in order to find a way to get to their respective classes. The streets were covered with rowboats and kayaks while those able to afford a Lexus passed by in their yachts.
Being an optimist, I thought I could rough the flood. I decided that I did not need an umbrella.
My visionary attitude lasted 2.48 minutes.
I ran back inside to fetch myself an umbrella, a jacket, a plastic bag, my 300 Thread Count sheets–anything to shield me from the water. It did not occur to me that I would be trading my umbrella for a spot on the bus.
The “bus” that I speak of is that legendary machine, wonder, anomaly that leaves our lives just as soon as it enters. Those who ride the bus are either residents of Laird Campus or just lazy students looking for a ride that goes anywhere. The bus drivers vary in age, and temperament. One particular woman will drive by you and refuse to pick you up. Why?
Because she is a cold, hard bitch.
Then there is the Gene Wilder Look-a-Like. Only problem?
It’s a woman.
Now, when I re-entered the harsh, cold weather, I saw the bus out of the corner of my eye. I also saw a pack of wolves, eager for a kill. This pack consisted of freshmen boys and girls, still hung over from the night before and the large foreign exchange population that resides in The East and West Towers. I ran to the top of the stairs at George Read, and ran to the Christiana Towers. My hope was that once students would exit at the bus stop there would be a seat awaiting my drenched, hypothermic body.
Much to my dismay, however, few were picked by God to get on the bus. I like to call these lucky few the "Chosen Ones." The Chosen Ones threw their elbows into the air, as well as their umbrellas, to ensure their spots in line for the bus. One individual, with an umbrella the size of a circus tent, knocked over 6,000 people with the wave of his right arm. I, with my meek umbrella and soaking sheets that now acted as a toga, could not make it onto the bus.
My tears were mixed along with the rain as I slowly walked down Pencader Way to the George Read Bus Stop. I felt defeat, but was quickly revived with what appeared to be hope. For now, I would be able to get a seat on the bus. The rain fell down my face with a sense of rejuvenation. I had hope for a better day, and a better tomorrow. A world in which one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.* I believed that we would one day live in a world where color does not matter and women were valued just as equally as men. I dreamt that one day University of Delaware would stop over-charging me for burnt coffee at the Starbucks in Trabant.** I dreamt and my dreams live on.
The only price I paid that day was my left foot (it was frostbitten due to the mixture of rain and freezing cold). But, I asked myself “Who needs a left foot, anyways?” Feet are not needed when splendid foot soldiers carry onward with the dreams of equality in their eyes...And for a ride on the bus.
*Martin Luther King, Jr. said this. If you thought I did, you are an idiot.
**Martin Luther King, Jr. did not say this. They did not have Starbucks then. He might have said this had they had Starbucks when he was living and had he come to the University of Delaware and eaten at Trabant. But, the truth remains: He never said this.
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