I hate the bus. There are a lot of people in D.C. that know this by now. There are a lot of people outside of D.C. that know this by now. I tell my mom this at least twice a day. And I know I’m on the record saying, “The bus is one of the worst things ever invented.”
I’ve ridden the X2 most days since January, and it consistently drives me bananas. It’s not just one thing, either. The city buses in Washington, D.C., get creative in the ways they find to throw a wrench into my good mood.
They might be late. They might be early. They might be full. They might be smelly. They might be detouring. They might be express when they are *supposed* to be making regular stops.
I will note now that I’m aware of how I sound. It’s like when you throw away food and your friend or the voice in your head says, “You know, there are people starving in Africa right now.” I should be grateful I can ride the bus and that I don’t have to walk everywhere. There are people in countries all over the world who don’t have the same luxury.
I get that. I do. I try to remember that as I’m seething and sweating under my coat after I sprinted to make the bus, only to watch it drive by. But sometimes, I can’t help but utter under my breath – or scream out loud – “I hate the freaking bus.”
But I have to give credit where credit is due. I’ve learned several important lessons after all this time riding, and I wanted to pass them along.
Lesson 1: You Can’t Always Get What You Want
No matter how fast I run or how much I try to plan, there are still mornings that I’m standing on the other side of the busy crosswalk watching the bus go by without me. As much as I hate it, I’m stuck waiting for 12 minutes in freezing cold wind or rain for the next one to come.
The D.C. metro system has an app that tracks the buses on their routes, and I check it incessantly in the morning. I try to coordinate leaving the house with the arrival of the next bus, and I run to keep up with the schedule because arrival times can fluctuate by a few minutes as the app tries to keep up with real-time changes. And sometimes, I forget my name badge or wallet and have to go back home, and then sprint to make up the lost time.
It isn’t always totally the bus’s fault, but even as I hope and pray I will make it on time, there are times I’m just outta luck.
Over and over again, riding the bus teaches me that life just isn’t fair. I can’t always get what I want.
Lesson 2: Patience, Patience, Patience
I always get on, though. When I do, the bus is often full to capacity with all kinds of people. This can be interesting and great for people-watching and sociological musings. But it can also be overwhelming, especially when I’m grouchy because I’ve already missed the bus once or work was long or I don’t feel good or I’m just not willing to be understanding.
I’ve learned a lot of patience as a bus rider. The only way to avoid increased anxiety or frustration is to try to look outside of myself.
When I get frustrated with the gaggle of kids fighting across the aisle or the baby’s piercing cries, I’ve learned to try to try to understand where they’re coming from. And sympathize with the mother of the baby who’s even more frazzled than I am.
And when that doesn’t work, I’ll crank up the volume on my headphones and sink into a favorite podcast or song and let the stories and music take me somewhere else.
Lesson 3: Always, always, always help someone out
One morning, I’d gotten to the bus stop on time and a man was already there. I had my headphones in and was in the middle of my ritual of listening to “The Daily” podcast when the man got my attention. I pulled out one of my earbuds.
“Excuse me,” he said. “Do you see the black truck across the street?”
I told him I did. He asked if it looked the windows were down.
“I hate to say this, but I think they are,” I said.
We both looked down the street and could see the bus at the stop before ours. He hesitated, but he was worried about his windows. I knew the conflict going on inside his mind – Do I risk robbery or miss the bus?
I thought to myself, “leave the car, catch the bus.”
But I told him to go check his car – I’d hold the bus.
He ran across the busy street as the bus pulled up. I got on and watched him check his car through the big front window.
“Do you see that man out there?” I said to the driver. “Will you wait for him? He’s coming right now.”
I stayed up front to make sure the bus didn’t leave while the man came back. He jumped on the bus and thanked me with a big sigh.
Later that day, I walked to the bus stop sobbing on the phone with my dad. I’d had one of the worst days at work in a while.
Even once I got to the stop, surrounded by people, I couldn’t hold it in and my mascara ran as I continued to tell my dad what had happened.
I was distracted as I pulled out my wallet when the bus finally pulled up. I’d forgotten to refill my card that day, so when I tried to use it, I realized I had no money to ride. I was still crying, still on the phone, while a line of people waited behind me. I shuffled around to get off the bus, but then a voice said, “Hey, aren’t you the one who held the bus for me this morning?”
I looked up at the man who spoke and it was the man from that morning. He pulled out his wallet and said, “I’ll pay for your ticket. It’s the least I can do. You saved me.”
I smiled and cried even harder as I thanked him. I walked to the middle of the bus and stood, feeling grateful as I ended the phone call with my dad. I continued to cry, both out of sadness and now out of gratitude.
A woman near me pulled out a tissue and set it on my camera bag. I looked at her through my teary eyes and said “thanks.” She just smiled and nodded.
You never know when you might need some help, so I’ve learned it’s just good practice to help others.
Lesson 4: There Are Still Good People
This lesson goes with the lesson above, but I continue to learn this one.
It was one of the days where I’d just missed the bus and I was cursing everything. The bus, the metro app, the weather, the universe. You name it.
I had no choice but to wait in the freezing cold for the next bus. I calmed down, but I just kept thinking, “I can’t wait until I never have to ride the bus again.”
When the bus finally came, it was full. “Of course,” I thought. “Typical.”
I found a place to stand in the aisle, where I could keep all my bags out of the way of other passengers.
But then, out of nowhere, a man stood up and offered me his chair. He couldn’t have been younger than 80-years-old. He looked like he’d walked out of 1940s London. He was dressed in a three-piece suit, albeit a little tattered. He wore newsboy cap and a tie.
I tried to tell him no, but he insisted. And then he added, “The good Lord loves you.”
And I was all the sudden really grateful for the bus.
Finally…
Lesson 5: Don’t Take the Good Days for Granted
The bus teaches me that I have to remember to appreciate the times that I make the bus and that I get a seat. The times when the bus and the metro line up perfectly, like they planned around my plans. The times when I hear my favorite song by accident on the way to work.
Or even the times when the weather is nice enough for me to walk and not have to ride the bus at all.
Your friend,
