--- Making a Permanent Impression Since 1994 ---
By HEATHER PILARCIK-MURAWSKI The Tattoo It's bad enough that I have to rely on the bus to get to school. It's not my fault. I'm simply not old enough to drive, and unlike some of my more fortu- nate friends, don't have an older sibling to drive me, either. So it's the bus for me. It wouldn't be so very bad to ride the bus, if only the bus riding experience could be normal. In the first seven days of school, we had four different drivers. One morning the bus came so late that I had to go home and get a ride. Another time, a cat showed up at the bus stop. It's starting to become funny. There's something new at the stop every morning. One day, the bus passengers noticed an incessant beeping noise. The bus driver apparently did not know how to turn off the switch that was alerting him that something was wrong with the brakes. While I'm venting, I'd also like to point out that it wouldn't kill anyone to have the route start a little later, so that I could perhaps get a little more sleep. I have to get up at ten of six, so that I can get dressed, pack up my homework, if I'm not running late grab some breakfast, and make it down the street by ten of seven. The bus arrives at school at quarter after seven, and I stand around for half an hour. While public transportation to school has its ups (at least I donít have to pay for gas) it's also got more than its share of downs. If students have to take the bus, and if taxpayer money foots the bill, the ride should at least be more enjoyable.