On the road to school

I know I promised no more school writings, but I couldn't resist. This was written for English class. We were reading "On the Road" by Kerouac and had to write a piece of our road to school. Enjoy.

I push down the doorhandle and am immediately greeted by a cold gush of wind that drives all the warmth out of me. I shudder and step out of the grey cold building not very looking forward to another schoolday. It's snowing. I pull down my hood low over my eyes because I hate it when the snow gets in my eyes. It's cold. It's dark. As usual. I have to live in this cold dark world at least for some more months. I hate it. I don't like it. I want warmth and sunshine and all those things that make me happy. Pretty Reckless is booming in my headphones, I sing along mutely and try to make my way through the thickening snow to the tram stop. I have to run a bit, though, because I came out too late. One tram is coming along now, but it's not mine, fortunately, cause I'm way too far away to get to it in time.

The song changes to another one. I know the words as well. I sometimes think if it seems too weird when I walk along and mouth the words of songs that no one else can hear but me, but then I discard that thought and just walk right on and sing right on. I don't care. It's my decision, my world and I do what I want in my world.

The shops are still closed, but Comarket has already lights in it. I always pass it thinking why are they there so early? But then I walk on and new thoughts invade my mind. Buses are creeping through the fat thick white falling snow, making funny noises and letting off warm gusts of air when opening their creaking doors to let stuffed people in and out. Buses are always so full in this time of morning so I take the tram. At least it's not crammed with people.

I make it to the tram stop. A small pause on my road. Some people are standing in the small booth, making funny movements to make themselves warmer and hopping from one foot to another. I join them in the strange dance and wait for my tram. I wonder if Paula will make it today. She sometimes comes on the right time and sometimes she doesn't. I keep looking at the direction she comes from and sometimes check if I see the tram also. It's so cold I have to wrap my whole face except for my eyes inside my scarf. Then I catch a glimpse of myself in a window and start to laugh quietly. I look like a terrorist. It's just funny for me. But then again, most people who wrap themselves up so look like terrorists. So it doesn't bother me that much.

A number 1 tram is coming. Not mine, unfortunately, because I have to stand longer in the excruciating cold. Fortunately, no one now sees how I sing along to the songs because my mouth is inside my scarf. I shift my balance from one foot to another and continue to shudder quietly.

Oh, there's my tram! The old reliable number 3. Guess Paula isn't going to make it today. I make my way together with a bunch of other people to the tram doors and grab a seat by the window on the right. I lay my head against the glass and shut my eyes. I'm tired and my eyes hurt.

The tram starts to move. I open my eyes at one point and wave to my grandmother who is on the window to see if I got on the tram. She alway does it. I always wave to her too. Just so she wouldn't worry too much. She really does worry too much.

It's warm and relatively comfortable in the tram. I have to be careful not to fall asleep, but it's not such a big problem, 'cause the tram makes such noises all the time it is quite impossible to fall asleep there. It goes on with excruciatingly slow speed and always stands in the stops so long and keeps it's doors open for so long that I get cold again. I'm always cold in the winter. It's inevitable. My hands are numb with cold even though I have two pairs of gloves on. I have no idea why. Maybe because I have so-called "pianist hands". They are always supposed to be cold.

Hobujaama. I open my eyes briefly and who do I see standing, waiting in the stop, but good old Martin Link. I'm not really in the mood to talk to him, though, so I keep my head turned, looking out the window and he doesn't notice me, walking straight past me. He sometimes takes the number 5 bus, but as it seems then today he has decided to come on the tram.
I close my eyes again and listen to my music.

Viru. Can it move more slowly? I'm getting impatient because of the cold air coming in through the open doors. I open my eyes again. The tram's just standing there, holding it's doors open even though no one's coming on anymore. Someone is simply walking slowly on the zebra! It drives me crazy.

"Vabaduse väljak", a russian voice announces over the loudspeaker. The tram creaks and shudders to a stop and then opens the doors. I step off. The frosty wind blows immediately in my face and tries to make my hood fall off my head. Again. It happens so often. I make my way to the traffic light behind some people who apparently know nothing of walking fast. To my luck the green light is still on. I flounder through the snow to the big yellow, majestic-looking building. I make it to the door and have to pull it open. It's always so heavy when pulling it by yourself. Especially when there's snow to prevent it. When I get inside I'm greeted by a beautiful warmth and a green, though fake, christmas tree. The school seems welcoming, but only to those who don't go there often. I, as a student, have to go there every day and to me it isn't so very welcoming anymore. At least it's relatively warm.

I hang up my clothes, taking my time getting my huge boots off (Paula always asks why it takes me so long to get my clothes off so I every time explain to her the fact that I have huge boots and it is a pain in the a*s to get them off quickly) and then I walk upstairs to my first lesson. I've finished my short journey, arriving to my destination.

Author's Note

Paula is my friend from school, the words that you don't understand are probably the bus stop names in Estonia and Martin Link is my classmate. The end.