Bus Rides MAG

By Unknown, Unknown, Unknown

   There is no experience like riding thebus to away games. There are always those who don't like whothey have to sit with, and complain the whole trip. From thefirst seat, coaches order "no screaming," but theirwarnings are seldomly heeded. At the front a few girls talkwith the coaches about pro soccer teams and state statistics.To the left are the ice coolers, medical boxes and soccerballs. Piled to the ceiling, the gear makes it impossible forthe driver to see out the back.

Players attempting todo homework, sleep or eat occupy the middle of the bus, thoughthese are almost impossible to do. It is so loud that onetrying to sleep must lock herself in a sound-proof booth. Whensomeone pulls out food, everyone wants it. By the time it isreturned to its owner, none is left. Doing homework isdifficult due to the noise and potholes.

Thereare always a few who claim to be dying of some illness. Anklesbecome unbearable. Stomachs which were fine to eat the lastSnickers suddenly feel horrible. Fevers pop up out of theblue. These conditions, of course, are all fatal and renderthe girls unable to play a long hard game.

The back ofthe bus is for the senior varsity who have no other desirethan to turn up the team's boom box. They take advantage oftheir position in the bus; the back door is a window used towave, make faces or antagonize afternoon commuters speedinghome. Meanwhile, our destination is still an hour away.






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