April 6, 2012
1st Bus Ride – 8:00am
Southwest corner of N. 43rd Ave and W. Bell Rd
Good morning, father. So far, the day has been deliciously pleasant. The sun is shining brightly as if it couldn’t wait all night to show its brilliance once more. There are no clouds to speak of so that all of Canterlot can bask in the wondrous warmth of our greatest gift. If there is anything I could be grateful for since being tasked by misfortune to ride the city bus, it would undoubtedly be enjoying our world famous weather. And this muffin with a healthful slather of butter tops it off very nicely. Anyhow, back to the order of business.
A lot has happened since I last boarded the bus. Allow me to start with my afternoon appointment with the doctor. Well, he did have a field day with my notes, but he was gentle. It is his signature way of doing his practice, but for some reason I couldn’t help but feel anxious about what his reaction would be. It is never easy to delve deeply into my thoughts and feelings and to have them read by somepony else was absolutely racking. It was like somepony was reaching into the murky depths of my soul and observing its imperfect intricacies. Nothing was sacred. He seemed to pick up on this rather quickly. I’m not sure what gave him the idea. Perhaps it was all the sweat I left on his couch or the fact that his stress ball now functions doubly as an hourglass. At the end of the session, he offered to give me a ride to my apartment and vowed to do it every single night after our appointments. I am so lucky to have such an understanding professional by my side.
May I be blunt with you for a minute father? Where is the appeal in keeping a pet? I do remember you purchased a hamster for my seventh birthday and I do not wish to sound like an ungrateful brat. However, I believe it was since then I developed a sort of distaste for the little animals that plague the hearts of many ponies with neediness masterfully disguised as love. The endless feeding, the grotesque cleaning of the cages, and the exhausting amount of time spent looking for the wayward soul. I just realized I am a pony that finds disfavor in the sight of an animal. Is that ironic?
Now, before you question my sanity and my doctor’s credentials, I must inform you of the reason for my ramblings. I am no longer alone at my bus stop. I have been graciously joined by a four legged creature with a ragged appearance, a sloppy presentation, and a mouth that cannot help itself from smacking its lips incessantly as if it were devouring the air. Oh, and she also brought her dog, an equal abomination.
Well now, perhaps I should not be quick to judge this rustic pony. After all, she did have the decency to bid me good morning. Or in her tongue, good mornin’. I simply smiled and resumed my writing before another animal wanted to greet me as well. Oh my, what a dreadful encounter that was! My legs were assaulted by its damp nose snuffing out warm pockets of doggy air and its dusty little paws were all over my pad. Then, it had the nerve to climb me as if I were some sort of obstacle and plant its furry face into my own. I could feel its spastic tail ping ponging against my lap. If this dog were any bigger, I would surely have been knocked over. Then, came the tongue. I saw with my own two eyes as it slithered out of its putrid cave and wriggled towards my face. I had two choices: Throw this pest off my lap and demand that it be handled properly, or, allow the inevitable to occur and keep silent. I decided perhaps it’d be better if I kept silent. Oh, how I did not want this dog’s slimy tongue to touch me! Heaven knows what it licked this morning.
The rustic pony came to my rescue. After she screamed at the miserable cur to get off at once, she scolded the repentant rascal with a pap to the plot. She apologized to me for her unruly pet, and it sounded very sincere with a touch of embarrassment. To put her at ease, I told her it was no problem and that it was no fault of hers. The dog was simply excited to make a new friend. She let out a relieved chuckle and turned her face to the lone streets of the morning.
Anyways, as I was mentioning before, the doctor appears to be very pleased with my notes. He is especially thrilled that I had the courage to talk to somepony on the way to the office. Though I felt the responsibility to share that it was her who initiated the conversation, it was liberating to know I had that kind of resolve to do something that was different. He suggested that I allow that to feed my daily goings about. He shared a staggering statistic after that: Only ten percent of what we fear comes to fruition. Therefore, it is necessary to overcome those fears of the unknown, lest we paralyze our best intentions and vitalize our worst inventions. He was quite impressed with my writing and felt I should consider a double major in music and English. That was nice of him to mention, and yet while I do see the potential, music is steadfastly my priority. My waking dream and my last thought.
And now, my dearest father, the bus has arrived promptly on schedule. If I could give the transit just one, and I truly mean ONE, remark of praise, it would be that it has always arrived on time. As it should be. After all, I would not imagine that a conductor would be able to keep his or her job if they were consistently tardy all of the time. Perhaps it is because the day happens to land in the middle of the week, I am not sure, but this morning bus holds more passengers than the one two days ago. No matter, I am accustomed to sitting up to the middle of the bus, and so I have set my cello in the seat next to me as I place myself near the window. Correction. I have set the cello in my lap since the rustic pony has decided to take the seat next to mine. Her dog is thankfully seated in the hall away from me.
Well, I guess this is simply another testament to the barbaric upkeep this fine transit system continues to demonstrate to its paying customers. Yes, I find the words “BUCK DA REST” to be extremely rude. And of course, the stains of whatever junk food was ordered in the middle of night are absolutely revolting. And who could forget the gum that I nearly stepped on two days ago? Yes, all of that is worthy of the most fiery condescension words can concoct. But this! Allowing a dog to board the bus with tens of other ponies is the cherry on that spoiled sundae. Where is the concern for those ponies with allergies? Do they not care for the well-being of their passengers? And what of the risk of that dog attacking somepony while in transit? Do they not fear a potential lawsuit on their hooves? This is an unbelievable outrage! I fear for whatever poor soul finds this creature when its natural inhibitions strike!
Father, you know the saying “I stand corrected”? Well, whoever invented that was probably never a passenger on the city bus. For here am I, sitting dumbfounded once again at the sight of what was occurring before me. I know this may be hard to believe, but it seems our doggy passenger is quite the little charmer amongst the passengers. Ponies left and right, young and old, all are absolutely gushing over this little rat. One stallion sporting tattoos all over even scrunched up his hooves and remarked how cute it was in a pitch as high as a C9. It was highly disturbing. Children toting half open backpacks and lunch boxes pored over the creature and doused it with love and affection. And the owner? At complete ease with it all.
Now here is something to think about. If I were to put my hooves into this pony’s shoes, I would never allow strangers to wipe their hooves all over my pet. Why, that would be like these same children grabbing at my cello! Curse the thought! I would offer my mane to be mishoofed by the public before anypony lays even one peeping eye on my precious instrument! No, I would never allow that to happen to me. In fact, I wouldn’t have even entertained the thought of bringing my cello with me on this bus had it not been for the circumstances at hoof. Now that I think about it, why has this pony brought along her pet? Now that is a good question. A very good question indeed.
Now, I could just ask the rustic pony like any normal civilized citizen. Simply tap her on the shoulder and wait for her responding twist of the neck. No. I am going to put my observational skills to the test. Surely this pony has left certain clues for me to figure out why she brought her dog for the ride. Let’s see. The harness that limits this creature wraps around the entire body frame as opposed to just its neck. I assume this particular breed is a feisty one. Of course, I experienced that first hoof earlier. A call for more control perhaps? This may indicate a lengthy journey. The way the straps cling tightly to the creatures body creating ripples of furry skin tells me that the pony was in a rush this morning. This indicates importance, no doubt about it. Perhaps she is off to visit somepony who is in grave need. Perhaps this grief stricken pony is wailing the hours away in the hospital. Will she be visiting Lyra? She does seem to be the sort who would. It could be she’s just a rough and tumble sort of gal who laces them up nice and tight. Maybe she’s taking her pet for a change of scenery. Goodness knows I could use one. I’m getting so tired of my little apartment. Two and a half weeks, Octavia. Two and a half weeks.
Please do not misconstrue my sentiments, father. I do not want to come across as an ungrateful daughter for all you and mother have done for me. There is not a doubt in my mind you two have worked diligently to ensure I would have everything I needed to live out on my own. I mean, you own the complex I live in and the car I drive, or drove in this case. And you did present to me the wonders of music with this fabulous cello. I am forever in your debt. It’s just, well, I don’t know. Perhaps this isn’t the opportune time to write of such matters. I am in the city bus after all. Now where was I?
Look at them, father. They are laughing. Well, the pony is laughing. I am not of the belief that dogs are capable of demonstrating emotion the way ponies do. But, they are enjoying themselves quite a bit. As if they had no cares in the world. Just look at how they smile at all the passengers. And the passengers smile in return. I may as well concede this: Pets have a powerful effect on ponies to turn any situation into a bright one. They can bring any two together. They can make silent lips move. They can make stale eyes focus.
How is it that a simple animal such as a dog can bring ponies together like that? I would presume that it is because unlike us, their brains are incapable of holding prejudices. Just look at the way it happily rests in the laps of complete strangers on this bus. Never mind that the high pitched stallion boldly wears a tattoo on his chest which reads “Marez and Carz”, it cradles just like any other. The children who will probably never be able to escape the slums they grew up in are like seasoned travelers with great stories to share of grand adventures. No wonder so many dogs are taken to hospitals. They have the uncanny ability to brighten anypony’s day. I suppose when you have nothing much to go on besides medication, a furry friend who will snuggle in your hooves and listen to every word you say is a gift from heaven. I wonder if Lyra would want to see a dog right about now. Why am I bringing her up so much?
You know father, there is one aspect of the bus that I have not delved into whatsoever. The windows. Not that there in any way spectacular. In fact, quite the opposite is true. More than seventy percent of their square area is covered with the transit system’s tacky logo and the parts that aren’t covered are too high up to look through. I was lucky enough to sit next to a small area of window that was exposed to the outside world. You know, I never really looked out of windows before. I mean, for safety reasons of course. Nopony likes a driver that looks out their window leaving the front windshield to their right ear. Come to think of it, this is the first time I was a passenger for a long time. It’s kind of a surreal feeling to be looking out of a window. So many sights of my commute pass me like the wind. For example, I never noticed that on the corner of 43rd Ave and Peoria stands a large temple, erected for the praise and worship of our duo rulers. As I gaze upon the stained glass windows that reflect a spectrum of colors upon the sidewalks, I cannot help but ask how the Princesses feel about this sort of dedication. At least to me, they seem to be very humble rulers and would rather their subjects esteem the powers of love and tolerance rather than the embodied representations. I am also reminded of that wonderful unicorn Twilight Sparkle. I wonder how her discussion went with her teacher. The sun is up and doesn’t seem to be hurtling towards our delicate land, so I will assume it went very well!
Well father, I have done it! I have successfully pulled the cord to signal my stop for the first time in my riding career! I am so honored to finally have had the privilege of notifying the conductor that I wish to depart and continue on my busy day! What a thrill! Can you feel the sarcasm just dripping from my pen?
Octavia
April 6, 2012
2nd Bus Ride – 3:30 pm
Southeast corner of N. 43rd Ave and W. Northern Ave
Oh dear. It seems that I am growing tremendously weary of this new lifestyle, father. And it’s only the second day of riding. I suppose it is because this has been a terribly busy week for your daughter. I am constantly on the road now since I’ve gone carless. If I’m not running my hooves over my cello or confiding my secrets to the doctor, then I’m sitting at a bus stop or riding the bus. I cannot imagine what it’s like to have to do this every day of your life. I’ve noticed many regulars who board the bus and from the looks of them it seems to be very taxing. They cannot drive for one reason or another and are forced to place their transportation needs in a time based system. I imagine that their days start early, even before the sun rises. What would happen if a pony woke up late? Perhaps they had a terrible confrontation at work the previous night that required more time with their head on a pillow. Such transportation would not wait for anypony regardless of the excuse. They simply show up and go. I’m sure it is common for passengers to be breathless as they charge as fast as their tired legs can towards the trailing bus, only to have their desperate clops on the side of the frame fall on deaf ears. A silence that isn’t silent.
Well, it seems the rustic pony has appeared once again, this time to grace route 81 with her animal. Lucky for me, she has elected to stand with her back to the stop while her pet roams around the radius her harness allows, at a safe distance. This is a very different pony accompanying me than the one who rode the bus earlier. She isn’t smiling this time. She isn’t even looking up. Her straw hat covers all except her muzzle which droops like a flower in need of water. Her hooves are crossed, and my guess is that her attitude is the same. Just looking at those toned back legs is sending warnings to not interfere with this hard working mare. Perhaps it would be best to not touch the subject. I don’t want her to find me writing all of these observations, right?
My word, she found out.
Do not fret, father. All is at ease. This mare, though rash in appearance, is a very levelheaded pony. When I noticed she had caught me looking her way, she saw the pen in my hoof and connected the dots. She began to walk my way. To say that my heart was thumping would be a gross understatement. It was thrashing and banging the insides of my ribs like a door that wouldn’t let it escape. The moment she stopped right in front of me the pen in my trembling hoof slipped and dropped to the ground. I didn’t dare bend down to pick it up and near my delicate face to those pair of legs, strong as pillars. Looking up at her, I noticed that her gaze was fierce and narrow like the path of an arrow. But she wasn’t looking at me. Instead, her eyes were fixed on my bow tie. Before I could mutter a single sound, the small creature hopped its front legs onto my lap, surprising me with its smiling eyes. Carrying my pen in its mouth, the dog offered that I take it back on terms of friendship. I looked back up at the rustic pony. Her eyes were still fixed on my bow tie. When she finally noticed her pet’s friendly gesture, she couldn’t help but relax into a chuckle and say with a heavy accent that it was safe to remove the pen from her mouth. It would not bite.
She introduced herself as Applejack, and her dog was named Winona. She lives and works at Sweet Apple Acres, a large apple farm just outside of the Everfree Forest. Memory served me at that moment to remind me that the forest lied next to the town of Ponyville. I asked her if she knew Twilight Sparkle out of curiosity. Come to find that she does, in fact, know and is very good friends with the magical librarian. In fact, she formed part of the extravagant team of the mighty Elements of Harmony that defeated the likes of Nightmare Moon. I asked her which of the elements she represented, which she responded with her head held high: Honesty. I have no trouble believing that to be true. Something about the way Applejack carried herself speaks volumes in the tones of honesty. Her grin was proud, but not arrogant. Her eyes were sharp, but fair. And the way she talked was strong but friendly. She seemed like an honest pony that made an honest living. I’m kind of glad we got along well so fast.
The next question, as with Twilight Sparkle, was why she was taking the bus in Canterlot. It’s funny how I’ve run into two ponies from Ponyville who are taking public transportation in a faraway city. To this question the farm pony lowered her hat and returned to her former somber state. I regretted asking that question. After a brief pause, Applejack finally spoke in a whisper, barely audible among the noisy street life of bustling cars and talkative pedestrians. She was visiting somepony who lied ill in the hospital with a terrible sickness. I almost couldn’t believe it. My prediction was right. I wondered then if she went to see Lyra. She didn’t actually. She was visiting one of her own kin. Her smallest sibling. Her sister, Apple Bloom.
It all began about a month ago. Applejack and her sister were busy in the kitchen washing plates and spoons and the sort. They had had a delicious meal of baked apple fritters, filled to the fullest with fresh apples and crisped to perfection. As she placed the last clean plate onto the drying rack, she heard a crash. Fury shot through her veins like an electric shock. If the little filly wasn’t arriving home at late hours covered in tree sap, she was breaking something in foolish disobedience. She quickly turned on a hoof to address the young Apple Bloom. The yelling stopped as soon as it started as Applejack witnessed a most horrendous sight. Apple Bloom lied on her side, kicking her stomach with her little legs. She would not stop kicking and she would not stop crying.
Immediately another crash rang throughout the farm. It was the sound of the front door and the relatives of sweet dear Apple Bloom bursting through it. The three of them, Applejack, Big Macintosh her elder brother, and even Granny Smith, the hobbling old timer, hurried along the fertile soil in the middle of the night to get their precious little family member to a doctor. They placed Apple Bloom in a large wagon and carried her off in the direction of the nearest emergency center. Applejack and Granny Smith stayed next to the suffering filly, while Big Macintosh pulled and pulled with all his might.
The mares in the back had a difficult time trying to contain the little filly. She tried desperately to roll around and continued to kick her aching stomach. Applejack remembered how she tried to pin her little sister’s legs to the floor, but all that served was for her own stomach to receive a barrage of furious kicks. Little shrieks of pain and frustration echoed out into the night. It was a little embarrassing for Applejack to ride that way into Ponyville. But alas, they made it to the emergency center.
Before I could ask what the diagnosis was, the bus arrived. How anticlimactic. We boarded the bus and to my surprise there were very few passengers. Was today mix up day? Anyway, we took our seats near the front and the bus roared away down the busy intersection. I asked Applejack if she was accustomed to riding the bus. She replied that this would mark her second trip in her whole life, the first being the morning route we took together. I had to know how she was able to navigate the systems without some sort of guide. She simply stepped outside and determined which routes to take by studying the placements of the stops and the directions of the routes. Amazing. Not only is Applejack sensible, but astute. Ready for whatever challenge the day brings. I feel some sort of remorse for my comments of her earlier. It is evident she is like very few ponies I know. Not only would I not mind riding next to her. I would feel safe lost in the depths of the cold, blistery tundra as long as she was on my side.
She continued her tale of the eventful night. Apparently, the doctors sent the Apple family home with a diagnosis of colic and a bottle of antibiotics. The treatment was to last ten days with a dosage given after breakfast and another before settling into bed. Because the patient was a grade-schooler, they decided to give her the liquid form of the medication. However, as Applejack recounts in a rather annoyed tone, this did not make the administration of said prescription any easier. The family tried everything to coax the little filly into taking her medicine. They bargained with her. They begged her. They promised her a new ribbon. They made Big Mac promise he would wear a ribbon throughout the day. They mixed it into her favorite breakfast: oatmeal with apple slices. Unfortunately, this did not sweeten the bitterness of the prescription, but embittered the sweetness of the breakfast instead. The only method that consistently worked was for the elder brother to hold the squirming filly in his strong legs while the elder sister navigated the spoon cautiously through the air until it landed safely inside its destination. Needless to say it was ten days of some of the worst mornings and evenings the family went through in a while. For Apple Bloom, it was the medicine. For Applejack, the administration. For Granny Smith, a lack of sleep. And for Big Mac, mocking catcalls and whistles from the colts in town.
I tried so hard to conceal a grin, but it proved fruitless. I quickly apologized to Applejack for my lack of decency. She smiled and said it was alright, that it was good to laugh at somber things to relieve the stress. If she could only do the same, but it was difficult when your sister was in the hospital. That comment framed my next question. Applejack sighed and began by saying that the medication was not bringing any good results. Apple Bloom was far from better and it seemed she was becoming more restless every day. There was that annoying habit of hers to continually kick at her stomach to somehow ease the discomfort that no matter how many times it was explained to her that it would only make matters worse, she ignored the sage advice and continued. During this whole time she was confined to her bed, only allowed to get up to use the restroom and to walk around the property for some exercise. Also during this time, the school teacher, Cheerilee, would bring Apple Bloom her assignments and readings for the day. On the tenth day, the caring school master became concerned about her star student, and asked Applejack about her progress. After hearing the bad news, she recommended that Apple Bloom be taken to the leading Canterlot Medical Center, where a friend of hers worked. He was a specialist in digestive problems and offered to give him a call to see if he could make an exception in his schedule. Applejack thankfully agreed with the proposition and by early next morning, Applejack and Apple Bloom were on the train en route to Canterlot. Her brother and grandmother stayed behind to look after the farm.
They arrived at the medical center last night, and Apple Bloom was admitted immediately. The doctor was a kind stallion that spoke in a way that informed Applejack and soothed Apple Bloom. Because of the sensitivity of the preliminary testing, Applejack was asked to expect results in the waiting room. It was there where a phone call from the front desk interrupted her nervous pace. It was her brother. Apparently, the family dog had gone missing the minute the two left for Canterlot, and it was his guess that it followed the two ponies’ scent all the way there. In light of the fact the tests would take hours, she decided to go out and look for the devoted family pet. And that is how she ended up near my side of town, for it was around the complex where she found Winona sniffing the ground at seven thirty in the morning.
If my calculations are correct, that would’ve meant Applejack has been not just awake, but active for a whole day and a half. This mare must be absolutely exhausted!
I asked her if she got any rest at all when she returned to the hospital earlier this morning. Another question I wish I could take back. Her face fell once again, this time accompanied by a single tear. I was afraid of what was coming next. I almost wanted to tell her she didn’t have to say a word if it would hurt that much. She spoke anyway, against the tension that hung densely between us.
Pelvic flexure impaction.
A large mass of undigested food was found blocking Apple Bloom’s small intestine, causing it to narrow. It had grown so large that it interfered with normal digestion. The doctor was so glad Applejack brought her in when she did, for the severity of this case required major surgery to remove the obstruction.
The problem? It’s an expensive surgery. One that would not only put the Apple family in debt, but possibly cause them to lose some of their hard worked land in order to fund the operation. I was inclined to ask her why she couldn’t try to raise money in other ways, such as a fund raiser or a donation pool. Another tear trickled down her rugged cheek as she answered the unasked. Apple Bloom only had three days and hospitals are notorious for expecting same day payment. A choice had to be made now.
Applejack looked up and pulled the cord. She was getting off at the same stop as Twilight Sparkle did two days ago. I asked her where she was going. She requested to speak to the Princess herself to see if there was any way she could help her dying sister. She stood up and walked to the back door. An idea came into my mind.
Before she got off, I offered Applejack to room with me if she so chose. I found it a little odd offering this, but this was a moment where my aching heart overruled my protective mind. She smiled and thanked me for the offer, but declined it in favor of being near her sister. We bid each other farewell and she and Winona hopped off the bus to seek the Princess’s help.
It is my sincere hope the Princess will aid the Element of Honesty, and perhaps for this one time, for this one precious filly, she could break code and mend hearts.
Octavia