The Ironic Ride on Cy Ride

Let me assure you, the next new and exciting blog post is currently in progress. In the meantime, I'll post a short piece of classic writing to hold everyone over until I finish my current work. This also moves me one step down the path of transferring some of my older writing from Facebook over to this blog. This particular piece goes back four years to my days at Iowa State.

And as for the blogging contest between James and me, it's been no contest so far. You'd think all the time he's spending battling infections and diarrhea would lend itself to copious blogging time. Instead, I continue to pull away while he sits at the starting line...

More new stuff is on the way. Until then, enjoy the old.


One spring morning during my last semester of college, I boarded Cy Ride for my usual trip to campus. The first seat at the front of the bus was open, so I sat down. The driver looked over at me and said, "Did you see what's behind you?" I wondered if it was some kind of joke, so I said, "What?" He pointed and said, "Look behind you."

I turned around, and there was a piece of paper with Rosa Parks' picture on it, and it said "This seat is saved in honor of Rosa Parks." Apparently it was her birthday or the anniversary of her death or something...but I thought, what would Rosa want me to do here? Was I really being asked to honor Rosa Parks by giving up my bus seat? I didn't know her, but I was certain that she wouldn't stand for this. After all, there were no other open seats on the bus, and I had just woken up about 45 minutes ago and didn't feel like standing.

I politely said to the driver, "Sir, in honor of Rosa, I'm going to stay right here." We exchanged words for a few minutes, and he eventually said that I had to get up or I would be removed from the bus. But I knew what Rosa would want me to do, so I held on as tightly as I could to the nearest pole. Eventually, the Ames Police Department showed up and "removed" me from the bus. After two missed classes and a few hours at the Story County jail, I was free to go, feeling confident that I had honored Rosa's memory far better than any piece of paper and empty bus seat ever could have.

Actually....the ending to this story is fictitious, but the beginning is completely true. When asked if I saw what was behind me, I quickly got up and found another seat. Several other people who got on the bus after me did the same thing. I still can't get over the irony of being asked to give up my seat to honor Rosa. To this day, I wonder what the driver would have said if I had told him that I was going to stay where I was...