Let The Good Times Roll

I love my bus drivers. Yes, I met a few arrogant ones and a few that totally hate their jobs; but the majority of them are sooo nice and friendly. This evening one of them tried to make up the lateness by honking furiously at my next connection, which was on the verge of leaving the bus stop. The driver stopped to let me in thanks to the honking code, but not before he teased me by pretending not letting me in. It is 7.26 pm, I have been on the road since 6.06 am, yet I am grinning from ear to ear.

You know what can possibly topped that? A fellow passenger that said to me: "So glad you made it! I saw you running and I was hoping you can catch this bus." This was a cool unassuming African-American whom I always saw on the same bus, but never thought she actually give a damn about me. And oh man her smile! She was genuinely happy to see me manage to catch that bus instead of waiting for another 30 min. I mean come on, I got my bath waiting for me at home. And my bed too.

I think it should be mandatory for people to experience public transportation for at least a good 6 months or so. Here in LA the public transportation was pretty good, at least compared to Jakarta. Yes, there are some sketchy routes, and the transfer policy for some busses makes it expensive to ride on. But you'll learn oh so much. Last Sunday I learn that "Get off me you Trump!" could be considered as a valid insult. I learn to keep my head down when there is alterceration or shouting match. I learn to keep to myself when there's sketchy people around.

You know what else I learn? I learn that the smile on a young man's face when I said "thank you for chatting with me" was priceless. I learn that you can help people easily, from teaching them how to use a new app to finding a route with your Google map. I learn that it feels oh so great, being about 8000 miles from home, when somebody (a.k.a the bus drivers) said "Sorry you're late for work, will you be ok?". Like, the busses are pretty much my limo, albeit one that I shared with 20 something people. And don't even start with the jaw dropped gaze and various "Wow, you're beautiful!".

Public transportation is a place where you learn to be human, where you learn about other humans. Where else can you see the true face of humanity other than when you were stuck with a bunch of them inside an unpredictable iron beast. This time no cheating too, it's as assorted as Bertie Botts All Flavored Beans, ranging from caramel to earwax. And lest forget about patience and some good ol' zen exercise. Finding your zen when you are in a warm sweet smelling (yoga) studio is easy; finding it in a crowded bus with various chattering noises while trying to decide on whether you should stop at the next stop and Uber yourself instead because you are already so damn late would be an interesting challenge, yes?

We humans are annoying piece of sh*t. This much is true. No matter how good you are, no matter how sweet you are, someone is bound to hate you. But the opposite is also true. No matter how pathetic and agonizing/aggravating you are, someone is bound to love you, someone is bound to see the good in you. However, this is a matter of perception. It's back to how you want to see people, or to be exact, how ready are you to see people; not just physically, but to see them whole as human. This feat requires understanding, a big heart, an even bigger mind, combined with the smallest ego you can maintain. Will you, for instance, cried loudly (in your mind) about how useless and trashy and a waste of oxygen is the dirty (and seemingly) homeless man in the back seat who keep ranting throughtout the trip? Or will you feel sorry for him to be in such pain that he had to let it out to the world like that?

Taking the public transportation, for me, is almost second nature. I am a very social being (with extremely introverted personality) and I enjoy being with people, being amongst people. Crazy people on the bus scared me, and I have to admit there are many times I wish I could drive and own a car instead of spending hours on the bus. At the same time though, these people on the bus are my family. A sort of broken dysfunctional family in which we don't even know each other, but still a family. And ideally, that's how the world should be. We are all family. Regardless on how we are taught to think or how we look, our fear, our emotion, and our hopes and dreams remain the same. 

Tomorrow I have to get up by 5.40 am, and probably wont sleep till 10.40 pm. I could use more sleep. But hey, I could also use all those smiles and good vibes from my commute. Let the wheels on the bus go round and round, let the train on the track go clickity clack, let them serve the people and become the artery of the city and its surroundings. And baby, let the good times roll.