I hate bus rides.

I hate bus rides.

I've been riding it 5 days in a week for the past 4 years (except for summer vacations), but I've never quite gotten used to it. I hate how the seats smell of accumulated sweat and dirt, of fat seatmates and stinky ones and of roaches infesting the interior. If there were only airconditioned jeepneys in this route, I'd ride them instead. I hate how buses make me dizzy and how I can't read novels to pass time. I hate how I have to watch my food intake before boarding it going to school because if I don't eat enough I'd feel like throwing up halfway during the ride and if I drink too much I'd have an unhappy bladder and I can't get any respite for the next hour and a half. I hate how some conductors assure me that they'll reach Vito Cruz then suddenly go back on their word once they reach Buendia and leave me there (they return some of my fare, but still. It's such a stupid fucking hassle). I hate how they break down once in a while and I'd have to wait to squish in standing room on the next one. I hate it. I really hate bus rides. I like airplanes, and I'm okay on boats even small bancas, but I hate buses most of all.

But at the same time, it's the only place where I get my rest these days. I hate bus rides, but sometimes I wish they'd last longer so I can sleep more. I hate them but sometimes I can't wait to get on them so I won't have to think about anything. When I'm outside it I'm pressured to think of all the things I have to do and accomplish, but once I'm in it, I surrender to the unknown. I almost never worry about whether I'd get to school on time--my whole fate lies in the "capable" hands of the bus driver and there's nothing I can really do about it. It's like a dream world or a different plane or dimension. Time stops inside the bus. I don't have to face any responsibility while I'm in it. There are no computers, I can't work and studying gives me a headache. Everything ceases to matter as long as I'm in it.

I hate bus rides. But it gives me much needed rest.

"La Salle na," the man beside me this afternoon said outloud, and his words shuttled me back to reality. I opened my eyes and saw that he was right. So I thanked him promptly, thinking he must have heard me say my destination earlier when I paid for my fare. He was such a nice man to have reminded me, even though I never miss my north-bound stops no matter how tired I get. For that matter, I rarely miss my south-bound stops--I only did so once.