the red route shuttle starts at agnes arnold hall and goes out to cullen boulevard, past cougar place, through the stadium parking lot, past the gym, and back over to agnes arnold.  at ten forty-five, i get on at the stop in the stadium parking lot.  i sit in the front row on the right-hand side, so i can put my feet up on the stair railing and see out the front windshield as well as the side windows.  the driver is talking to the girl sitting across the aisle from me.

“you still sick?” he asks her.  he sounds like barry white.
“yeah,” she says, taking off her backpack and putting it on the seat next to her.
“well, did you do what i told you to do?” he says.
“what did you tell me to do?”
“i told you to drink a hot toddy before you went to bed.”
“well, i–“
“or don’t even worry about the toddy.  just drink straight from the bottle.”

we stop to pick up a lone girl standing near her car.  the driver stops but doesn’t open the shuttle door.  instead, he rolls down the passenger-side window.  “have you got a sandwich for me?” he says, pointing at the fast-food bag in her hand.
“no,” she laughs, “i just have one!”
“well, i can’t let you on unless you have a sandwich for me!” he says, still not opening the shuttle door.  she pulls open the passenger door and gets in anyway, sitting in the front seat next to him.  everyone on the bus laughs.  “i walked right into that one,” he says.

the shuttle begins to fill up.  as we near the gym, i watch out the window, listening to the conversation the driver and the front-seat girl are having about sandwiches.  “is your sandwich on white bread or wheat?” he asks her.
“white,” she says.
“oh, i don’t eat white bread.  i like wheat.”
“are you kidding?  white bread is the best!”
“but wheat’s so much better for you, girl,” he says.
“naw,” she says.  “i still like white.”
“let’s see, now,” he says, and gets on the intercom.  “okay, folks.”  his voice is deep, smooth and loud.  “we’re taking a poll.  which is better, white bread or wheat?”
we all start yelling.  “wheat!”  “wheat!”  “white!”  wheat is the clear winner.  he tells the girl she has to buy sandwiches for everyone on the bus.

the sandwich girl and the toddy girl both get off at the gym.  with nobody to talk to, the driver stays on the intercom.  “thank you for riding the morning 29 special,” he says.  “all you gentlemen and ladies, especially the ladies, have a wonderful, wonderful, wonderful day.  our new music program this week will be about true love and true confessions, or: lies, lies, lies.  for those of you getting off in front of the fleming building, watch your step, and thank you for riding the morning 29 special.  now playing: the late, great zapp and roger.  do it, roger.  do it.” he turns up the volume on the stereo.

zapp and roger are serious about getting down, and we’re all enjoying it.  i’m tapping my feet on the railing, bobbing my head in time.  the lyrics come on and everyone laughs when they consist only of, “do it, roger, do it.”
“see?” the driver says over the intercom.  “those are the words!  and you thought i made it up.  someday everyone on this bus is going to get up and dance, and the people outside will say, ‘damn!  what’s going on on that bus?’ ”  he rounds the corner and stops in front of agnes arnold, opening to door.  “thank you for riding the morning 29 special.  gentlemen and ladies, especially the ladies, have a wonderful, wonderful, wonderful day.”

i jump off the shuttle and skip to class.  the shuttle isn’t about laziness, it’s about entertainment.