This silent age...
it's been a while, but let's return to take a look at older writer Jeffrey. It was time for Jeffrey to head home, looking at the schedule he found the route he needed to take to get home. It was a long 2-3 day trip around the country, but at the end he'd get to see his family again.
Calling a cab, Jeffrey took the car to the central transportation hub.
Stepping into the black and yellow car. The taximeter flashed it's analog red lights to start the taximeter. The driver's license and taxi certification was placed next to it. Glass panels separated the driver from the passenger seat.
"Hey James", Jeffrey greeted his driver.
"Where to?", the taxi cab driver asked.
"Terminal 5 of the airport", Jeffrey replied.
Jeffrey also added, "Oh and don't take the freeway that leads to the strip, just the parking garage is fine."
"Ok", James the cab driver replied and they took off.
As Jeffrey watched the scenery pass by, the sun was still high in the sky. Traffic was light because it was just past lunch time, but before the 3-4pm traffic hour rush home. For many Americans it was just another day at work, another Friday before the weekend. For Jeffrey it was time to visit family he hadn't seen in a very long time.
In if one could see the number of times they'd get to meet another person, quite rarely in life is that number exceeding triple digits. The amount of times Jeffrey would meet his parents was probably under 1000 times. Still quite a lot in his lifetime, but slowly those moments would get closer and closer to 0.
Jeffrey's eyelids felt heavy as he drifted off to sleep, his backpack and computer bag firmly in his hands.
After a few hours, Jeffrey was awoken by a voice saying "We're here".
The cab driver had announced that he was at the terminal, from here he'd take a bus to the greyhound that would take him home. With a few more transfers along the way, he had a long journey ahead of him.
James stopped the taximeter and Jeffrey paid the driver, adding a small tip for his services. As Jeffrey stepped out of the car and grabbed his baggage, he saw the man speed off. Probably never to meet again.
Jeffrey waited a little excited and with some anticipation, although he knew that through the course of the journey those feelings would soon be replaced with tiredness and exhaustion.
Checking the GPS, a slew of anxious thoughts started to appear.
"Where's the bus? Did I miss it? Am I late? Should I stay?", Jeffrey thought to himself.
According to the schedule it should have arrived by now, but he might have to wait another 40 minutes for the next one. With events totally out of his control all Jeffrey could do was stand there and wait.
A few times in the past, he'd stood there for hours to find that the stop had been moved somewhere else. Jeffrey wouldn't be making the same mistake again.
After a few bus routes going to other places, Jeffrey finally found the bus he was looking for. Paying the fare he set off once again to the central transportation hub, the first leg of his journey. His final destination was home, a small suburban house where he grew up as a child. His parents probably awaiting his arrival.
Heading to another ticket booth Jeffrey waited in another queue. This time instead of standing underneath busy concrete roads or wooded buildings with waiting places and benches of the train station, Jeffrey stood outside. The ticket booth run by two transportation employees.
"One ticket to Occidental County", Jeffrey said.
Handing over his card, he received a ticket and then waited for his bus to arrive.