A rugged middle-aged gentleman turns to me and says abruptly, “I’m from Arkansas!”
“Good!” I respond, not sure what is expected of me.
“I’ve been driving my car for 20 years in my own state and everything was fine. Then I come into this mess of a state and have my license taken away because I didn’t have a seat belt on. What do they care if I have my seat belt on? It’s mine to do what I want with it, right? And now I have to go to court to get the license back.”
“I wish you the best of luck,” I say.
The bus approaches the campus.
“So what’s this place here?” the man from Arkansas asks.
“It’s a university,” I explain.
The man looks puzzled.
“A what? Is that like a college or something?”
“Yes, it’s like a college,” the bus driver chimes in. “By the way, young lady, it seems to be taking you longer than you hoped, isn’t it?”
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“Well, I’ve been driving you to college for a few years now. When will you be graduating?”
“I’m not a student,” I say. “I’m a professor.”
“I did had a seat belt on,” the Arkansas man says after a pause. “It was one of those old ones that you have across the lap, so the police didn’t notice it.”
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