The Bad Bus Trip -- Day One -- Part Two -- Speaking of Terrorists ...
I'm pretty sure I sat next to a terrorist-in-the-making from Bakersfield to Barstow. His name is Kevin. He's from Missouri. I know his last name and what city he's from, but I'm afraid of a slander suit so I won't print that. However, I'm begging any high school guidance counselors from Missouri to watch for warning signs from any Kevins you may talk to.
Kevin's hero is his brother's best friend -- a white supremesist (sp?) who sports a Hitler mustache. Kevin hates California. Why? Mexicans. "California's full of Mexicans," he said. "How can you like a state that has so many Mexicans? Ship them all back to Mexico. They're worthless pieces of shit. All of them." Of course I should have told him that one of my best friends is half Mexican, but I was afraid. As if the fact that this teen-ager has such a deep hatred for an entire ethnic group wasn't enough to be frightened of, the racial make-up of the 50-passenger bus was 6 Caucassians, 7 African-Americans, 5 Asians, 2 Indians and 30 Mexicans. I was afraid Kevin was going to start a race war.
I tried ignoring the little freak, but every time I turned my head he nudged or tapped my arm to make sure I was paying attention. Thank God for the McDonald's in Mojave. When the bus made a stop, Freak Boy got out to smoke a cigarette. I took the opportunity to get out my WalkMan. I didn't even have it turned on, but the headphones on my ears kept him from talking to me. Instead of listening to him or the WalkMan I kept thinking up future headlines like "Teen gunman targets Taco Bell."
I never thought I'd be so happy to arrive in Barstow.
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