I watched a little girl on the bus. For her, the ride was a new adventure. For me, it was a routine inconvenience. To pass the time, she played with her stuffed animals, a polka dotted kitten and princess bear. I scanned e-mails on my phone as I fought off motion sickness. Her feet hovered above the floor as she sat. She swung her legs back and forth, holding them out in front of her for a moment as she admired her pretty, glittery shoes...the ones that maybe belonged to her Halloween costume, but she convinced her mom to let her wear them out. My feet ached and I longed to kick my heels off throw them into a river. She pointed out the window to the flashing lights up ahead in the road. Exciting, like on TV. I inwardly groaned at the thought of another traffic hold up. She nearly burst with nervous glee when it came time to push the "stop" button. She smiled proudly when it lit up and chimed for all the bus to hear. But it wasn't the correct stop after all. &q