Coming Home
Having practically danced all night, my legs were wobbling
and my eyelids heavy. Everyone else seemed to be suffering the same symptoms
but there still wasn’t enough rides home. Four of us ended up with the only
option of waiting for the bus system to start up. I suggested we leave the
pounding bass and shrieking accordion behind us and wait outside at the bust
stop. Even though we had some time to wait, we filled it with stories and
future plans. Eventually, we noticed that no buses were coming our way. Asking
another guy at the stop, we learned that our bus didn’t even stop where we were
but the subway station was only about a 20 to 30 minute walk away.
After voting, it was decided to
take the risk. It was about 5am at this point and asking for directions was not
exactly on easy thing to do. We eventually did run into a guy who spoke no
English and no Portuguese. Through hand gestures, broken Port-english, and
about as much comprehension one can have after a sleepless night, we managed to
get the idea and head in the right direction. After taking the subway and a
bus, we made it home just in time to take a shower, switch clothes and head off
to teach our class. To sum up the experiences, let’s just say I won’t be doing
it again.
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