The bus is just one of those things that messes my life up in the best of ways.
Just when I start believing that most of the world looks, acts, and thinks like me, I get on the 17 or the 21 and sit next to the widest assortment of people Minnesota has to offer. Just last week I sat next to a very tall African American man sleeping beside me. Across the aisle, an ex-hippy looking 60-something year old man carried on quite a sophisticated conversation with himself, even discussing the the finer points of the Franciscan order. Two blind men boarded the bus. An old couple, the woman knitting, sat in front. Teenagers loudly discussed every detail of their day behind me. An African American woman with bejeweled fingernails asked a younger Hispanic woman for the time, only to realize that she didn’t speak any English.
Oh, the bus.
The bus also messes with my “disposable” lifestyle. I forget I actually need to plan a little farther in advance to ensure I make it. I have to walk a little ways to the stop. I may have to actually sit and wait for it to come for a few minutes. Today, I all but ran to the stop only to miss it by one or two minutes. Then I had to wait for the next one, which didn’t come for another 16 minutes. I felt upset at the bus and myself until I realized how few and far between are the times I actually have 16 minutes to do NOTHING. The bus also goes so much slower. I could drive to my pottery class at South High School in about 15 minutes. By bus, it takes me about 40 minutes. But then I realize that those 15 minutes in my car could only be used for driving, saving me 25 minutes for free time, whereas I can do many things on the bus for a whole 40 minutes.
When my life is too harried to take the bus, this is a good indication that I’m in over my head. When 40 minutes of down-time that is actually simultaneously carrying me to my next destination is bothersome, I need to take a step back. When entering a bus full of people who sound, act, and look different from me feels strange or uncomfortable, I need to re-evaluate where, how, and with whom I spend my time.
The bus is a microcosm of the place I live and a constant reminder that I am not too important to spend a few extra minutes waiting around. And all for the price of a mere $2.00.
-Jessie, May, 2008
