Every Tuesday and Friday, and sometimes Thursday or Wednesday, I walk ten blocks to a bus stop and then wait for a bus with the number 273 in blue lights above the windshield and a green sign on the dashboard. The sign can say anything except "C" or "4". Those buses will not take me where I need to go. Once it arrives, I will likely wait in a line, step up to the card scanner next to the driver, say "3.50" so that he knows how much to charge me, and hold my dark blue SUBE card up to the lime green machine. It will probably blink green and I will search out a seat or a good place to hold on for the next forty minutes until I reach the Disco grocery store in City Bell, just four blocks from Compartiendo Un Sueño.
I've grown to love and hate the public transportation system. One time I did a google maps search and found that if I had a car, I could drive to Compartiendo Un Sueño in 18 minutes. Instead, I leave an hour before I need to be there, and often arrive late. In the summer, the open windows seldom provide relief from the stifling heat and humidity inside a bus full of people, and in the winter that heat escapes all too quickly. I lost my cellphone on the bus back in October and weeks later sat next to a woman as a man with quick hands snatched her smartphone and ran off the bus. A few weeks ago a toddler eating a sucker wiped her sticky hands on my pants. Somedays I get on a bus with an unhappy driver and end up using all my muscles to stay standing. People often ask me for directions to places I've never been.
But one time I met a young english professor who was excited to speak a few words to me in my first language. Another time, a Mormon missionary offered me his seat and I got to eavesdrop on his conversation about how much his spanish had improved. I'm consistently impressed with how quickly someone jumps to help a mother with toddlers and a stroller, before I even realize what's going on. Once, a person in a wheelchair needed to get on a non-handicap accessible bus. Every young man on that bus was involved in this person's subir and bajar. I love when someone who is friends with the driver gets on and stays near the front so they can talk. Once, the driver's family was riding along and his little daughter rode seated on the engine cover until one of her parents made her find a safer place to sit. A few months ago, I waited at the bus stop next to a couple who couldn't stop looking at their ultrasound pictures.
Growing up in the middle of nowhere, Medina County, Ohio, public transportation might have meant the train that I took with my youth leader to avoid parking fees when we went to baseball games in Cleveland. And when I moved to the big city, I still felt more comfortable walking to campus and bumming rides from friends until I was able to bring a car to school. I went on a couple "COTA Adventures" but they were just one-time deals. I never let myself get comfortable. I think if I had pushed myself a little harder I could have learned to appreciate the public bus. And I'm going to add that to my list of life goals for when I return.
I think that the point I want to make here is that public transportation has its merits. There are the often-talked-about benefits of reducing fuel consumption and cutting down on traffic. But beyond that, public transportation here is used by everyone, regardless of economic standing. (Okay, I'm sure there are some people who own multiple cars and don't take the bus, but they are few. And yesterday a woman who came to ask for clothes at the church said she would ride her horse in the next morning if she couldn't find some pesos to put on her SUBE card. So I guess there are outliers on both ends.) It's a common space where you will come face-to-face with someone different than you. You'll probably see fancy clothes, funny hats, people in love, people who are just friends, babies, elderly, workers with dirt still under their fingernails, students with their books out even while standing, people in uniform, people in sweatpants, people with bread to sell, and sometimes people with iPhones. And for a little bit, they're all going in the same direction.
We've all got somewhere to go. I'm glad that our paths might cross along the way.
