Confetti

If we judged a population by its buses, well . . . it's a good thing that we don't.  As we stand by the side of the street and the bus thunders toward us, we can see Jesus es me fiel amigo printed in large letters across the windshield. A picture of Mary is fastened to the door of the bus. Jesus is usually on the window near the driver's seat. Above the windshield are sparkly signs that say Dios te bendiga (God bless you) and Jesus es vida. Lo demas es fantasia. (Jesus is life. Everything else is fantasy). Then, as we settle onto our bench, we notice the pictures of Bugs Bunny, Road Runner, and Mickey Mouse scattered about the bus. Loud rock music streams from the box speaker on the luggage rack above our heads, and I have a headache.  After a 10-minute ride into town, we make our way down the steps and onto the street. The bus blows black exhaust as it moves on, and we can see the back window plastered with playboy-type silhouettes of women, the kind you usually see on the mudflaps of 18-wheelers rolling down Minnesota highways.  I just don't know what to say.