Crash Landing from Office Space

I suddenly realized that school is starting really soon. The good thing about temping is that you don't have to give notice.

So at the end of the day I shook hands with Bryan the wedding interrupter and hugged Amber, promising to keep in touch. Brent, the cute white boy who sits next to Amber, gave me a good-luck-in-school cookie. And then I walked down the funky hall of Regis for the last time, a ream of paper under my jacket and that crazy guy's Swingline in my purse. (No, I'm just kidding about the stapler. I did look for it on his desk but couldn't find it -- that fool keeps it on lockdown or something.)

As I waited for the bus, my stomach started to feel weird (and not from Brent's cookie). I realized that I'd just finished my last day of "work" for a long time. I am suddenly terrified about going back to school. I have no idea if I will like it at all. I have no idea if I even remember how to do school. I graduated a year early from undergrad because I was so anxious to get out -- why am I going back? The bus pulled up.

There are these two girls I usually see on my ride home who sit in two separate rows but always spend the whole ride chatting with each other. Yesterday I sat in the empty seat next to the more talkative one and smiled politely before opening my book (I know, I've been reading it for like a month and I can't get through it -- that doesn't bode well for school). The two girls saw my book and asked if I was a student. Turns out they are both studying to be medical technicians. Their eyes widened when I answered their question about how long I'd be in law school. Then they asked how much money lawyers make. I could only reply, "a lot."

We ended up chatting on and off for the rest of the bus ride -- about their babies, about the hourly wage they could expect to make when they get certified, about R. Kelly's parts six through ten. It was the first good bus ride I'd had.

Well, today I got on the bus and there were hardly any seats left. I saw my two buddies near the back -- both had empty seats next to them. So what did I do? I sat myself in one of the seats up front reserved for the elderly.

I felt immediate regret -- I wanted to have sat with the girls. They must have seen me board the bus, even though I had shyly avoided looking directly at them. I started glancing over in their direction, figuring that I would catch their attention and then give the "ohhh hi, I didn't see you there" wave. But neither of them looked over.

They got off at their stop and didn't notice my last frantic attempt at eye contact. I'll never see them again.

I'm worried about making friends at school. These past few weeks in the blogosphere have made me feel like one of the borderline cool kids -- I feel so popular when people leave comments and even come back on a regular basis. But something about my online charm gets lost in translation when I'm away from the keyboard.