common denominator

I ride the bus.

When I tell people about my transportation habits, they're usually surprised. Especially by the bus. They seem wary & skeptical, sometimes even critical or disdainful. Yes, I ride the bus- it's cheap and puts me in touch with the people I'm geographically close to. Yes, some of those people happen to be prostitutes, single mothers, drunks, and thugs. Yes, these are messy people. No, it's not that bad. In fact, I enjoy it, and I'll tell you why.

I've always been a bigger fan of the radio than of tapes or CDs. When I listen to the radio, I feel like I'm connected to people; I'm reminded of the fact that I'm not alone. Listening to your own music is similar to driving your own car. I lose sight of the ultimate connectedness of everyone when I'm inside my own car. It's easier to live inside an illusion of control when I'm the mistress of my vehicle, shut away inside my car. "Safe." It's easier to paint my own picture when I'm on my own. When I'm on the bus, I get to hear about someone's new baby, or I may have to endure some personal drama. Maybe I'll sit next to someone who smells funny or talks non-stop. Some of the situations and people I encounter are indeed unpleasant, but they're just as valid and probably more edifying than the extreme comfort of my own car. Situations like this check my focus; I find I often need to look at what I'm relying on and recalibrate.

I have also encountered unexpected pleasantries during my patronage of the KAT bus system. On the way home one day, we had to switch buses. So I prepared to unload my bike and reload it again onto a different bus. This can be a pain depending on how high the bus is and how tired I am. I started into it, and a man insisted that he would help me. I don't know him, but I've seen this man at his worst, when he was lying down on the sidewalk, drunk as a skunk, and the cops were converging on him to cart him off. (I don't mean just a couple of cops- this was a whole swarm of officials that grew by the second.) Not that he remembers me or that situation. But he was very insistent, in his sobriety, that he would help me unload my bike. And he did. He loaded & unloaded my bike when we changed buses. He even got out and unloaded my bike when I got off at my stop. Colorful and unexpected. Yes, indeed. (During my first encounter with him, he didn't get arrested: the bus driver just stopped when she saw him and started yelling at him. Even as the police were walking towards him and 2 fire trucks were joining the scene along with more police cars, the bus driver kept yelling at him until he got up, staggered into the bus, and she whisked us away. Talk about a close call! And she told him about it, too, all the way home. "I saved yo' ass!" and so on. Who wants to miss that??!)

This morning it was too cold to ride my bike (again!), even for me. I'm stubborn about riding my bike as much as possible, but when my face feels like it will fall off during my scant two-block walk to the bus, I know it's not a day for riding because I don't have a face mask or a cool wind-proof jacket like Jon. And today was rewarding! I perched in my seat, getting ready to read some Oswald Chambers, surveying the scene. A disabled woman with a wheeled walker had just gotten on the bus and was seated next to a young, punk-looking kid in the section of the bus that's easier for the elderly and slightly disabled to get at. The woman was settling herself in, holding onto her walker so it didn't roll away, and she dropped one of her gloves. I didn't even notice until the punk kid silently picked it up and gave it back to her.

I turned back to my reading until two thuggy young men got on the bus and sat near me, continuing their conversation about Puffy and Dre. Really. Puffy. Dre. And this is 2009 and Obama was just inaugurated. The one guy just had to keep talking to anyone, I just kept on reading and pondering until my stop came, and I grabbed my things and hopped up to leave the bus. I was almost out the door when the thuggy dude followed me hollering something. I turned around to see him handing me my purse which I had left in my seat. That was a priceless look he gave me, too. It said, "You could have been cooked, lady. You didn't expect me to do this, did you?" There was a little moment where the whole cloud of witnesses drew in our breath, took in the event all at once. And we were glad, and I didn't quite know what to say, but I was relieved! Turns out that was his stop, too, and he told me about it, grinnin like a possum, until I was out of earshot: "I'm a nice guy! See? I'm a nice dude." He just had to keep talking.

Yes indeed: I ride the bus.