This summer was great. I worked, and I use that term loosely because I was employed at a golf store. Anyone that has ever been on payroll in the retail business is nodding his or her head right now in complete agreement.
Come on, you know who you are. All those hours spent demo-ing new equipment, and for those “in the know,” demo is just another word for playing with stuff in the store. Every minute tallied watching the clock, ignoring customers to the best of your ability, all the while calculating your next paycheck.
Do you remember telling your fellow employees about the audacity of that self-indulged jerk that tried to get your help during that “Saved by the Bell” marathon on TNT?
“Hold on, man, this is the one where Lisa sprains her ankle and they win that dance contest, can’t it wait!?”
Well, if that did not happen to you, you missed out; that is retail at its finest. After all this fun, is it any wonder that I did not want to come back out to school? I’m weighing my options here. Uninterrupted Jeopardy breaks at a golf store, or 17 units at ULV.
Couple this overwhelming weight towards the former with the fact that I am leaving, for the second year now, the friends that I grew up with. You know; the people that can finish your sentences; the ones that recognize all your jokes, references or allusions because everything you’ve done in the past 18 years, you’ve done together. With all this, why would I want to leave?
These reasons are precisely why I put off getting a plane ticket back out here until the prices were nearly unaffordable to even the heirs of the Sultan of Brunei. Where did this leave me, I’m sure you are asking. Well, I had no choice but to turn to everyone’s favorite second choice: Greyhound.
I got online and booked a Greyhound bus pass. I was able to keep it under $100 because I just caught the seven-day advance booking price-cut. Yes! That was easy. Procrastination isn’t that bad. Now I get to see the country. I’ve never been privileged enough to see anything west of Vail, Colo.
The kicker: This entire thing was going to take 46 hours. Okay, that’s fine; I’ll just buy a few books to read. I have a gift certificate for Barnes and Noble, no worries at all. “Crime and Punishment” and “Paradise Lost” were the two new acquisitions in my ever-growing paperback library. As it turns out, I never would have needed to buy either of these, although they are always treasures to have, because, as Thoreau said, “For what are the classics but the noblest thoughts of mankind.” My busmates were all the entertainment I needed.
I do not know who the most interesting was. It might have been the woman in Sioux City who had broken her shoes and couldn’t go inside so she had someone inside bring her napkins to stand on, and another person bring her rubber bands to tie around the napkins in order to make some rather trendy, makeshift moccasins. This entire time, she made sure everyone was aware of her situation.
It also could have been the teenage woman with two kids who cursed shamelessly at them constantly for not being polite and having class. The man with severe Tourette syndrome might have won out too. As I was informed, this man would not only swear at me, but he would threaten to kill me. Honestly, that’s what I want to wake up to.
No matter who the most interesting was, one thing was obvious: These people were there for each other. At any stop, after negotiating the haze of smoke, I witnessed people passing out cigarettes to one another. It was human nature at its pinnacle. People helping people without any gain of their own. I had to ride 46 hours in a cramped, curiously odorous bus, but I saw it as wonderful. In retrospect, if given the choice, would I do it again? Of course not. I was on a bus for 46 hours, people! Do I regret it? Never.
I saw people unselfishly helping people they hardly knew. The things they did were trivial, but that does not take away from their beauty, and I am privileged to have witnessed it.
Matt Paulson, a sophomore journalism major, is sports editor of the Campus Times. He can be reached by e-mail at phil6483@aol.com.
