The Magic School Bus and the Bancroft/Telegraph Bus Stop

Ms. Frizzle fluttered whimsically into her 3rd grade class and said to the students, “Today we’re taking a field trip to the most wonderful place!”

“But Ms. Frizzle, its 3 o’clock. School is over.” Michelle noted.

“We don’t need clocks where we’re going GAA Outer Space! You may remember our last journey through the cosmos. But as time goes on, new discoveries are made. We have to go back there because I left my anger medication on Uranus.”

The children giggled, but Ms. Frizzle’s empty glass of whiskey shattering against the wall abruptly silenced them. “Please children, that joke is very immature. Now everybody gather your cardboard space helmets and forge your parents’ hold-harmless signatures, because we’re taking the Magic School Bus back to Outer Space!”

The children scratched their heads and looked worriedly at each other, but without delay, Ms. Frizzle grabbed her broom and swept the cluster of children into the Magic School Bus. And the rockets of the Magic School Bus propelled Ms. Frizzle’s class through the sky, faster and faster toward the last frontier!

But the bus immediately stopped on College Avenue.

“Ms. Frizzle, what just happened?” asked Patty.

Ms. Frizzle looked rather stumped. “It appears as though some mystical twist of fate has diverted us toward the land of public transportation GAA beautiful downtown Berkeley!”

Ms. Frizzle proceded to educate the children to keep the vein in her forehead from exploding.

“But I wanna go to space and be a spaceman,” moaned Jimmy.

“Now children, this city can be very educational. For you see, Berkeley is a bustling metropolitan city inhabited by chaps who tire of dealing with the nagging one-way streets, severe parking shortages, and piggish parking enforcement. So public transpor-tation becomes a natural way of life for college students, those without cars, crazy poor people, and the bus driver’s homies. And we’ll be picking all of them up in just a moment!”

One painfully swift left turn later, Ms. Frizzle shouted to her 3rd grade class, “Next stop, Telegraph!” And the Magic School Bus opened its bright yellow doors to the blackened and melancholic introversion of the Berkeley fellows. Ms. Frizzle was so excited that her drymouth had temporarily subsided.

“I should warn you all about disturbing the students. They are the busiest people in the world, and so wrapped up in their studies that there’s not enough time to give attention to any lowly children. Study five minutes in this nook, read ten minutes in this cranny GAA that’s the daily routine of a Berkeley student!

Ms. Frizzle smiled gleefully at the scars on her wrists.

“Notice all the silent tension in the bus right now, children. The grown-ups frown bitterly upon the students, because their very presence is keeping the entire city alive. And while they will go on to be multiple times as successful, the locals will be left behind with the bus to get around town. Watching the animosity build as the students squeeze every drop of life out of this place is so exciting!”

But Ms. Frizzle was wrong, for a disheveled man with a trash bag soon broke the silence with lighthearted conversation.

“Hi there little boy. Do you taste like children?”


“Now Gregory, it’s impolite to not let the nice hobo gnaw on your knuckles.”

Gregory trembled as the man licked his lips. “Yes, Ms. Frizzle.”

And as the Magic School Bus drove on its merry way, one of the students took time out of his busy schedule to ask Ms. Frizzle a question: “Hey, what happened to the 51?”

“Ey sista, what the fuck we doin’ floating around in space?”

The driver only honked her horn in reply, “Goddang asteroid, get out the damn way!”

“Hey excuse me, I requested a stop.” a passenger called.

“Fine, get the hell off!” She opened the doors and the passenger was swiftly sucked out into space, where his head exploded in a wondrous burst.

“Next stop GAA Uranus. An’ quit yo’ fuckin’ giggling n’ shit!”