The Story of the Week (Or So)

Letter to the Quality Bus Company

by David Danzig

This one needs a little set-up. Back when I was in high school, my eleventh grade English teacher, Ms. Israel, planned a field trip to see a play called "The Belle of Amherst." She asked the bus company several times if they would need directions to the theatre, and they insisted that they would not. The bus ended up getting lost, and we got there more than an hour late, just in time for intermission. When we got back, Ms. Israel assigned us each to write a letter to the bus company, expressing our feelings about their performance. This is what I turned in.

To whom it may concern:

I would like to personally thank you for the professionalism that I was permitted to enjoy on my recent journey to attend the performance of The Belle of Amherst.

I would first like to commend you on your accuracy. I arrived within scant hours of the beginning of the play--mere moments when juxtaposed against the many days I had spent in hopeful anticipation of the performance. If only meteorologists, economic forecasters, and Nostradamus could be gifted with your precision.

I also was very impressed with the sophistication of the equipment employed. I was amazed that the bus stalled only a half-dozen times. I know I personally would have collapsed more times than that if given the task of hauling that tremendous machine. Traveling at speeds that were just centuries ago thought unattainable, we made even the swiftest jogger envious, employing the maneuverability of a Boeing 747 (costing millions of dollars more) preparing for takeoff.

I must admit that I had grown rather accustomed to the decadence of that bus's comfort. I truly felt as though I had left something behind when I tore my flesh from the hot plush vinyl seat. My only comfort as I begrudgingly entered the cold theatre was that I wouldn't have to wait the full duration of the play (having missed most of it) until my return to my newfound paradise.

I thank you for a very memorable day.


David S. Danzig

Copyright (c) 1995 David Danzig.

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