Tickets to Paradise
Boston, Massachusetts
I AM SITTING by the window on the Braintree Logan Express, a bus service that runs nonstop from Braintree, Massachusetts to Boston Logan Airport. Delta offers bus tickets and parking in the Braintree bus lot for Delta employees who live on the South Shore, in the towns and cities south of Boston. The Delta employee parking lot just north of Logan Airport is small with no room to expand except upward, so funneling employees onto public transportation is an excellent solution.
For me, the Logan Express is easy, convenient and free, thanks to Delta. There are a lot of pilots and flight attendants in uniform from various airlines on the bus on any given day as well as other airport workers and the general public, people catching a flight out of Boston.
I know all the drivers by name. Prince and Pierre are my favorites, driving the early morning shift which is when I usually work. They are both Haitian, quiet dark-skinned men, one tall, one short, precisely loading their buses with luggage then adeptly maneuvering the big bus through construction, traffic, snow, rain, bad drivers, delays, accidents.
At Christmastime I give each of them an envelope with a $20 bill in it, the Christmas card inside saying, “Thank you for getting me to work on time all year.” Prince and Pierre embarrassedly take the envelopes, mumble a soft “Thank you”, put the Christmas cards inside their jackets. I see a United flight attendant hand them Christmas cards as well. I am glad other regular riders show their appreciation to these two drivers.
Now on this late spring morning, I am idly watching the other passengers through the window handing their luggage to Pierre for placement in the side bays. There are airline personnel in uniform, businessmen in suits, families with toddlers in strollers, all sorts of people heading to the airport to board flights for work or holiday. One family in particular catches my eye.
They are a family of four, parents with two adolescent children, a boy and a girl. They are carrying straw hats and canvas tote bags. The mother has a pair of sunglasses on her head. The dad wears a baseball cap with a big red B on it, the logo of the famed Boston Red Sox baseball team. They are obviously going on vacation, probably to “Aruber”, the Caribbean island of Aruba which for some reason is a HUGE favorite of people who live in Boston, despite a plethora of other beautiful, lush islands only 4 hours flight time from Boston. Aruba is quite desert-like, with more cactus than palm trees dotting its sandy shores.
I notice this family’s daughter. She is probably 16, a very pretty girl with shiny blonde hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. A tan, most likely from a tanning salon, bronzes her skin. Her eyes are beautifully made up and lip gloss sparkles on her lips, her makeup artfully, carefully applied. She is just darling, in sharp contrast to her overweight parents who wear oversized shorts, stretched out t-shirts and heavy hiking sandals. Her mother wears no makeup, her wispy graying hair framing her face.
The daughter is wearing flip-flops and extremely short cutoff denim shorts, so skimpy a crescent of her bare butt cheeks shows. She has on a tight v-neck t-shirt cut so low the tops of her breasts and the lace edge of her bra are clearly visible. I can’t help but notice. Everyone else is looking at her as well. I see some of the men leering at her.
I am shocked that her parents would let her dress this way in a place as public as an airport. I get that they’re going on vacation, probably to a tropical island paradise. I understand that kids should be allowed to dress themselves, to choose a popular style that conforms with what their friends are wearing.
What I don’t understand is how these parents could let their daughter, their precious little flower on the cusp of womanhood, appear in public dressed in such a way. Forty bus passengers -men and women both- are staring unabashedly at her.
