Given the choice, most people would probably prefer to drive rather than ride the bus, and prior to this summer, I would have agreed. Throughout the duration of the summer, however, I’ve come to rely on the city bus and I almost look forward to seeing the large, blue vehicle every morning.
Besides avoiding the hassles of parallel parking and the annoyances of traffic one often encounters downtown, what makes the bus less stressful and slightly more interesting than driving my car is that is provides a completely different experience. Similar to riding an airplane or taking the train, riding the bus offers a glimpse into the lives of complete strangers, as well as glimmer of hope.
There’s something comforting about ascending the wide steps and being welcomed by the driver whose face I’ve come to know well but whose name still remains a mystery. "Good morning!" he exclaims to every passenger as they climb aboard, wearing a huge, genuine grin.
As I navigate my way to the nearest available seat, I plop my phone in my bag, preferring to be entranced with my thoughts and surroundings rather than emails, texts, or social media.
Glancing around, I see some familiar faces. There’s the other college student with his head slouched over a mustard-yellow history textbook. There are the nursing students donning their blue and green scrubs. There’s the elderly gentleman who is always patiently waiting, but today, runs hurriedly across the street for fear of missing the large, blue bus.
Under the soft hum of the air conditioner, I glance out the full windows, for there is as much to observe outside as there is inside. Outside, amidst the cars, buses and buildings, people go about their daily lives, constantly on the move. Inside, the sea of people ebbs and flows as individuals depart the bus, only to be replaced by a new set of faces, each with a unique story.
Over the course of the summer I have witnessed numerous small acts of kindness, whether it be offering a seat to another passenger, providing directions to a tourist, or simply listening to someone’s story. For example: I recently came upon an older woman at the bus stop, who, having recently moved to Portland, decided to spend the day exploring. I later learned that her husband had recently passed away and, needing someone to talk to, she confided in me.
The bus may not be the most ideal way to get from point A to point B, it’s not always on time, and some characters are more approachable than others. It’s a form of transportation, yes, but in many ways the bus offers a unique experience not found in the comfort and privacy of one’s car. It offers a series of stories, moments and interactions threaded together, often only for a brief moment of time. It provides the passenger an opportunity to experience a certain a level of human interconnectivity, or perhaps a more quiet experience spent occupied with a book, tablet or phone.
What I’ve learned from being a bus passenger, more importantly than anything else, is to take the time to slow down in a society that moves too fast.
