I used to catch the bus about 6:30 AM in Jersey and I would try to sleep, mark homework, or write lessons on the way in, anything to avoid thinking about the ten hour day in front of me. Monday was the worst, with a whole week of endless days disappearing into the earth like the Lincoln Tunnel.
One consolation was the camaraderie of fellow commuters. We were literally all in the same boat together, battling sleep-deprivation and struggling to make ends meet. Several times I saw people on the bus crying. Maybe someone close to them was sick or dying. Maybe they were going through a break-up or divorce. Or maybe they were just feeling terribly trapped, sitting on the bus another painful morning, waiting to get into the Lincoln Tunnel and a place they didn’t want go.
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