BUS STORY # 188 (Wild Child)
He’s two and he’s terrible. He’s screaming and shouting and ricocheting off the riders and the bench seats up on the rear platform.
Mom sits in the rear left corner. Dad sits on the bench seat in front of her. They’re mostly spectators, sometimes commentators, and little else.
There are four other adults up there, all male, all somewhere between 20 and 40. Two of them laugh and generally approve of this display of machismito. He’s gonna be a pistol, he is. Mom and dad are proud of that. The rear platform is a stage, and the kid is playing to the audience.
The third guy is wearing hospital scrubs. I’ve seen him on this route several times before. He obviously likes the kid, but he’s also got a way with him that quiets him and slows him down some. It takes me a while to realize what he's doing. The kid sees he's got this guy’s attention without realizing the guy has his.
The fourth guy sits in the corner just above the exit door. He does not look like he approves. He does not look like he disapproves. He looks terrified. He looks scrunched into that corner and he keeps his wide eyes on the kid’s every move.
As good as the guy in scrubs is, there comes the time when the kid is ready to bust loose again. They’ve been playing peek-a-boo with the kid’s Spider Man cap. The bus has stopped to take on some riders. Just as the front and rear doors start to close, the kid throws his cap on the floor. His dad leans over to pick it up and the kid shrieks. It’s a glass-breaker.
The fourth rider suddenly shoots straight up out of his seat and yells to the front of the bus, “LET ME OUT OF HERE! NOW!”
The driver re-opens the back door and he is down and out in a flash.
I see him standing there looking at us as we pull away. I can see the relief just beginning to find expression in his face. There’ll be another, quieter, bus in 20 minutes.
__________
The photo at the top of this story is titled “Wild Things Bus_1008” and is posted with the kind permission of Brechtbug. You can see this and all Brechtbug’s photos on Flickr at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/93779577@N00/3947073711/in/set-72157622414166666/
Mom sits in the rear left corner. Dad sits on the bench seat in front of her. They’re mostly spectators, sometimes commentators, and little else.
There are four other adults up there, all male, all somewhere between 20 and 40. Two of them laugh and generally approve of this display of machismito. He’s gonna be a pistol, he is. Mom and dad are proud of that. The rear platform is a stage, and the kid is playing to the audience.
The third guy is wearing hospital scrubs. I’ve seen him on this route several times before. He obviously likes the kid, but he’s also got a way with him that quiets him and slows him down some. It takes me a while to realize what he's doing. The kid sees he's got this guy’s attention without realizing the guy has his.
The fourth guy sits in the corner just above the exit door. He does not look like he approves. He does not look like he disapproves. He looks terrified. He looks scrunched into that corner and he keeps his wide eyes on the kid’s every move.
As good as the guy in scrubs is, there comes the time when the kid is ready to bust loose again. They’ve been playing peek-a-boo with the kid’s Spider Man cap. The bus has stopped to take on some riders. Just as the front and rear doors start to close, the kid throws his cap on the floor. His dad leans over to pick it up and the kid shrieks. It’s a glass-breaker.
The fourth rider suddenly shoots straight up out of his seat and yells to the front of the bus, “LET ME OUT OF HERE! NOW!”
The driver re-opens the back door and he is down and out in a flash.
I see him standing there looking at us as we pull away. I can see the relief just beginning to find expression in his face. There’ll be another, quieter, bus in 20 minutes.
__________
The photo at the top of this story is titled “Wild Things Bus_1008” and is posted with the kind permission of Brechtbug. You can see this and all Brechtbug’s photos on Flickr at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/93779577@N00/3947073711/in/set-72157622414166666/
posted by Busboy at 5:00 AM
2 Comments:
traduccion de ingles a español
RAMIRO GUZMAN MEJIA 9-1
Tiene dos años y es terrible. Está gritando y gritando y rebotar en los pilotos y los asientos en la plataforma trasera. Mamá se sienta en la esquina trasera izquierda. Papá se sienta en el asiento delante de ella. Son en su mayoría espectadores, a veces los comentaristas, y poco más. Hay otros cuatro adultos allí, todos hombres, todos en algún lugar entre 20 y 40. Dos de ellos se ríen y en general de acuerdo con esta exhibición de machismito. Va a ser una pistola, lo es. Mamá y papá están orgullosos de ello. La plataforma es una etapa posterior, y el niño está jugando a la audiencia. El tercer tipo es usar batas de hospital. Lo he visto en esta ruta varias veces antes. Era obvio que le gusta al niño, pero también tiene una forma con él en que le tranquiliza y disminuye por alguno. Me toma un tiempo darse cuenta de lo que está haciendo. El niño ve que tiene la atención de este tipo, sin darse cuenta el tipo tiene la suya. El cuarto tipo se sienta en la esquina justo encima de la puerta de salida. Él no se parece a él aprueba. Él no se parece a él desaprueba. Él mira aterrorizada. Se ve arrugada en la esquina y él mantiene los ojos muy abiertos sobre el niño de cada movimiento.Tan bueno como el individuo en friega, ahí viene el momento en que el niño está listo para el busto suelto otra vez. Ellos han estado jugando "peek-a-boo con la tapa del chico Spider Man. El autobús se detuvo a tomar en algunos corredores. Así como las puertas delanteras y traseras comienzan a cerrarse, el niño tira la gorra en el suelo. Su padre se agacha a recogerlo y los gritos de niño. Es un vaso de desempate. El piloto de cuarto de repente dispara hacia arriba de su asiento y le grita a la parte delantera del autobús, "Sáquenme de aquí! AHORA! "El nuevo conductor abre la puerta de atrás y que está abajo y hacia fuera en un instante. Yo lo veo de pie, mirando a nosotros a medida que se alejan. Puedo ver la ayuda tan sólo empezando a encontrar su expresión en su rostro. Habrá otra, más silencioso, el autobús en 20 minutos.
RAMIRO GUZMAN MEJIA
¡Que maravilloso! Me gusto especialmente “Es un vaso de desempate.” Muchas gratias para la la traducción, Ramiro Guzman Mejia. ¿Donde vive?
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