Trauma on the Transit: Part II

Part II: The Bus Builds Character

It was most unenthusiastic, my introduction to the metro transit. I pretty much knew that it was coming, but I was not thrilled. For days I poured and pondered over all the possibilities. The funny thing about this whole situation is that I could have got a car, because I did have a job. I worked two days a week as an administrative assistant at a private Christian school (I took my mom’s car). It worked well. Although the pay was good, I did not make tons of money. I had this big plan. If I could somehow make it one more year, living with my parents and not having the expense of a car, then I could pay cash for a nice car. Debt has never been particularly attractive to me. This all sounded like a great plan…except for the whole bus thing.

Right about now in the story people usually think…“are you dirt poor?” But, they usually ask… “and your parents let you do this?” The answer to the unspoken question is, no…definitely not. The answer to the second question is “uh-huh”. My parents are the most amazing people I know. Never for a second doubted their love or felt uncared for growing up. But at the age of 17, my dad was living on his own, and my mom was eating strange things in India and riding elephants to school. So, little me riding the city bus just seemed kinda…not a big deal. The family stance on situations like this is that it builds character. After all is said and done, I totally agree. One of my heroes Helen Keller once said, “Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, vision cleared, ambition inspired, and success achieved.” If Helen Keller could see some of the people at the bust stop, I think she would still for sorry for me. (No pun intended.)

The university had a deal worked out with the transit station that students could ride free. If my dad drove me to the bus station (on his way to work) then I could get to school and back at no cost to me! Now, if you live in Chicago, LA, or New York City, you have no sympathy for me. I understand. If you are from here you understand that it is common knowledge that only “scary” people are on the transit. Well, I decided to join the scary crowd. This 5’9”, long haired brunette, blue wide-eyed Caucasian girl packed up to catch the bus.