Bus Ride to Class

I’m not going to make it! I’m literally running with my heavy backpack on, my phone and car keys are in my right hand, not to mention my water bottle in my left hand that is icy cold so it is pretty slippery. If I miss this bus, I know I won't make it on time to class. However, I make it just in time. I step onto the bus. "Good afternoon", said the bus driver in a deep voice. The man was fairly old, perhaps in his mid fifties. He had pure white hair and seemed like he was a moderately tall, even though he was sitting down. "Hello", I said between my heavy breathing. I took the first empty seat. Just across from me was a Hispanic girl who was in her early twenties. She had dark brown hair and had on a blue tank top and black yoga pants. She had her headphones on and was glancing at her phone. Further down the seats was a young man who was also on his phone. He had short brown hair and wore a white t-shirt with jeans. He still had his backpack on, even though he was sitting down. He was also in his early twenties. Across from that guy was a man. This man had on a button up white shirt and denim jeans. He was well into his fifties and had silver curly hair. The old man sat in his seat with his legs crossed. He was reclined on his chair and he used the seat next to him as an arm rest. He looked out the window and seemed to be in deep thought. "Chamisa Village", announced the bus driver in his deep voice. His voice is like Michael Buffer, the most famous boxer announcer. We proceed down the street and I continue to observe the three other people on the bus. The girl has stop glaring at her phone. She scrolls rapidly with her thumb and occasionally taps the screen. The guy seems like he's texting. However, as I kept staring, I start to believe.he's playing a game on his phone. His thumb movements are random and his expression gives away his concentration. The old man continues to stare out the window and then periodically looks at his wrist watch. Even though there are only a few people on this bus, I can see many differences. The younger generations are glued to their phones, while the old man sits and drifts in his thoughts. In addition, the bus driver and the old man are the only ones wearing a wrist watch. Thus, I wish I knew what the old man was thinking. He seems like he's lived a long satisfying life. Finally, as the bus driver pulls up to my bus stop he says, "Have a good day", "Thank you. You too." I reply with a smile and he returns it. I walk off the bus, with a realization that throughout the semester I have seen the same types of people on that bus; young people that are on their phones, and old people that stare out the window.