>After revealing my disgust for people eating greasy fried chicken on the bus, my friend Ismael suggested I give the offender a transfer as a makeshift napkin to wipe their oily fingers on. It couldn’t help but remind me of the time that I was running in the rain – as fast as my little feet could take me – to make the light, cross the street and get my bus. The second I step/ran from the sidewalk into the street I slid on my heels as if on a banana peel, both of my feet flew in the air and I landed on my back. My head hit the concrete with a giant thud and I looked up to see a woman in her car mouth the words, “Oh…my…God.”.
Still seeing stars I heard a homeless guy a block away shout, “Hey, are you okay!”. I shook my head and stood up, determined to catch my bus. As I boarded, I looked down and noticed both my wrists were bleeding. I had no band aids, so when the driver asked if I wanted a transfer I meekly asked for two and spent the rest of the ride with bus transfers covering my bloody wrists.
I know what you’re thinking and the answer is yes, I would’ve made fun of me if I saw me on the bus.