Broken Windshield
Early Saturday, I rolled out of bed, washed, changed, grabbed a bag with clothing and camera, then met the taxi I had arranged for the previous night. I thought back to the many times I'd scheduled a shuttle to take me to the airport in Baltimore, usually a no-show. This man met me promptly at 5:30 for a half-hour ride into the city, to earn just $10 (and yes, that's with me overpaying). Point: Zambia.
We arrived at the bus parking lot just as the bus going to Livingstone had fired up the engines. I jumped in front, waved and hopped on board as he rolled away. There was nobody else on the bus. Odd, but cool. Then we pulled around to the bus station where I was supposed to have gotten on the bus. Ah, I see.
While a man took great care spit polishing the cab of the bus with a filthy rotting sponge, about 12 million people packed on board. The monorail was ready to roll.
We arrived at the bus parking lot just as the bus going to Livingstone had fired up the engines. I jumped in front, waved and hopped on board as he rolled away. There was nobody else on the bus. Odd, but cool. Then we pulled around to the bus station where I was supposed to have gotten on the bus. Ah, I see.
While a man took great care spit polishing the cab of the bus with a filthy rotting sponge, about 12 million people packed on board. The monorail was ready to roll.
posted by Andreas Kollegger at 11:45 AM
1 Comments:
Love your photos. Hope this comment will reach you
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