Yes, Virginia!

          It’s Sunday morning. It’s still quite dark outside and the streets are empty and silent. There are no cars in sight even as I turn into the main street. The rain is coming down as usual. They say you recognize the tourists in this city by the umbrellas they carry. The locals here don’t really mind the rain, but despite my twenty-seven years of residence in this city, I’m still not used to it. I mean, I could walk a short distance without an umbrella, but there is no way I could stand under the rain and drink a coffee while smoking a cigarette!

I’ve just finished a few hours of work without a smoke. At the end of the line, at the first respite from the rain, I pour some hot coffee into my mug from my flask and I get off the bus. The day has completely broken now. I can’t begin to tell you how I enjoy lighting my first cigarette! It’s as if life has meaning once again!  As I’m drinking my coffee and smoking my cigarette, the ad on the side of the bus catches my eye. The billboard is about six feet long with a picture of Santa Claus and a caption that says, “Yes, Virginia! There is no God!” I’m Bewildered, not trusting my eyes. Usually, the ads on the side of the bus are reserved for insurance and mobile companies. I step away from the bus and I read it again, “Yes, Virginia! There is no God!” I’m definitely not mistaken. I take a photo with my mobile phone and I think how the church goers are going to react to this.

It’s eight fifty-five and I’m on my return route. Outside, the dusty rain and the fog have blended together obstructing the view in a halo of tinted vapor. At the first stop, I pick up Charlotte along with a man and a woman who are not my regulars. Charlotte takes another peek at the side of the bus before getting in and stares at me from behind her thick glasses. 

“It’s Sunday morning and we are on our way to the church. Couldn’t they find another bus for this route?” complains Charlotte.  

“Most probably they couldn’t, Miss Charlotte,” I say, as I try desperately to stop myself from laughing.

Grumbling to herself, she sits next to the man and woman. At the next stops, Claudia, Martin, Geraldine, Malka and other familiar faces that I don’t recall the name, get on the bus. A heated discussion takes place over the billboard and they start to argue, condemn and formulate plans.

A few stops further down, I stop the bus for Michelle who is waiting with her two miserable suitcases. Michelle’s life can be summed up by these two suitcases that she trails behind her day and night. She gets on the bus, but she doesn’t have her usual smile on. It looks like she’s had a tough night. We greet each other and she says in a loud voice, “I like the billboard on your bus! Yes, Virginia! There is no God! But you should let them know that they left out the word “absolutely” from that sentence.” I bite my lip and check the passengers in the rearview mirror. Michelle turns to them and in a tough voice, says loudly “Is there someone here who doesn’t agree with this billboard?” No one utters a word. 

Outside, the dusty rain and the fog have blended together obstructing the view in a halo of tinted vapor.