Underneath the Sun

The Bus Ride There

When you're sitting in the back of the bus, and you have a fruit snack on your lap, it doesn't occur to you that you're about to head to a camp where everyone will hate you. Mind you, this isn't an ordinary camp and I'm not on an ordinary bus.

For one, the windows are completely blacked out, preventing anyone from being able to see inside. More importantly, it prevents me from looking out the window and seeing all the things that I could have in life. The bumps on the road only add to my dismay as we had closer to a place that is supposed to be great summer fun.

Next, I'm the only person on here. I get to sit here pretending there are other people who are going to join me. I think they felt putting me on a bus would at least make me feel like a normal camper. Too bad normal campers get to talk to other people who are just as excited to be going somewhere. I get to talk to the bus driver.

Rather, he gets to talk to me.

"You're going to love this camp," he said to me.

All I could see was the back of his head.

His bald, cleanly shaven head. 

His voice also reminded me of those characters on Sesame Street who acted a little too enthusiastic about talking to puppets.

"I hope so," I replied to him.

He took a peek in the rear-view mirror, quickly glancing at me. It almost felt uncomfortable, but then I realized he probably couldn't see anything anyway. It was a long bus trip and I'm sure he was getting bored from the lack of talking.

"How do you feel about going here?" he asked.

Why do grown-ups do that?

As if I can give an answer as to how I'm feeling. I'm feeling a lot of things right now and I can't sort it out. And even if I could sort it out, I'm probably not going to be honest with you about it.

"Fine, I guess."

"I've been driving to this camp for six years now," he began.

Here we go. Another adult story talking about their life as if I actually care what they have to say. Now, if you started talking to me about the '93 Blue Jays, then we would have conversation. He doesn't strike me as a baseball type though.

"And every year they always have one very special circumstance."

Gee, thanks. I love being referred to as a special circumstance. It doesn't make me sound welcome, but rather a nuisance. It's like everyone there is doing me a favor and I should be forever grateful that they did this.

Then again, I did ask for this. After all, they don't just grant wishes to anybody.

"I'm told they went all out," I replied to him.

I needed something to say. It would be rude of me to just ignore him or brush him off.

He laughed.

"Right from when you get off the bus to when they escort you to your cabin."

I don't know why he found that funny. I'm pretty much going to be an inconvenience for the entire camp and goodness knows what they did to that cabin to accommodate me. If I had to guess, I would assume I'm the only one who will be allowed to stay there.

Awesome - everyone will hate me and think I'm a loner.

"They usually have s'mores by the fire," he continued. "You'll be arriving just in time."

"Sounds delicious," I replied.

The sun was beginning to make its way down over the horizon. We would arrive to camp in the next few hours. It was timed so I would get there just as nightfall hit in order to make the transition easy on me and everyone else. All it will really do is single me out.

At best, they'll call me a vampire.

If history is doomed to repeat itself, they're just going to look at me like a weirdo.

Being allergic to the sun sucks.