Opinion - Buses Rock: Lessons From the RTA

The bus lumbers down University as the air brakes hiss, bus hydraulics lower for easier access, and the noise drowns out the voice calling the bus number and route. It's my first day experiencing the bus while I wait on my car, and I'm a little nervous about what to expect. A student in the back gives me a head nod, quite a sign of respect and communication for a teenager, and a good start. The bus stops at an intersection as a little boy and his mom are in the crosswalk. He holds up his hand, like a seasoned crossing guard, alerting the bus he is watching with all the authority of a 4-year-old. He gets on the bus steps later and says thank you.

At a later stop, a lady with a walker comes on, and the courteous driver goes through the steps to put out the ramp. She is appreciative, he is patient. Many people say 'Thank you', some add 'driver.' Sometimes people recognize each other and have a short conversation to catch up, and in this case, encourage each other.

A guy misses the bus. It has closed the doors and starts to move. The man tries to get him to stop by waving his arms and goes to the driver's side, but it keeps moving much to his dismay. Not everyone makes it a positive encounter. My friend Mark, a long time bus rider, cautions, "I've had rude people that cuss, those are the ones you know to pray for." True, and I'm relieved I made it to school.

I'm done with my workday and need to cross the street for the bus to go home. I'm unsure of the time, so I check with our secretary who knows all (as most of them do to keep things running) and she schools me. Tina offers me a bus pass, but I have some cash, I'll be OK. I need to cross the street at a signal crosswalk that makes it easier than playing Frogger, but I fear in the waiting the bus will pass me by. I make it. The bus comes and as I open my wallet, I realize the cash I have left is a ten dollar bill. I ask if it gives change. No, she says kindly, but a little quizzically, and I move to slide it in. She waves me off and lets me on the bus. An act of compassion.

In the afternoon there are more people shopping, and more bags. A lady sits in front of me with her wire cart full of possessions in black trash bags. She wears a baseball hat on her head, a straw sunhat over that and duct tape covers a hole on top. She talks with a man, perhaps another regular. She asks about how his eye is doing and if he had an aneurism. He tells her she is his favorite anthropologist because of how well she studies people and she responds to him in Spanish. She shares how blessed she is because someone let her use their digital coupon to get a deal on her crackers, she doesn't like all this phone computer stuff or apps. She offers her friend a water, as she has extra and wants to bless someone. Her stop is next, so she asks the "young man" bus driver for the next stop. She adjusts her sleeves with careful precision and smiles, then says goodbye to the people on the bus. "Thank you young man, I appreciate the RTA! Have a great day."

Nearing the end of my day, I transfer to the end of the line and talk to our driver. John has been doing this job for eight years. "A good day, nothing happens, it's boring. Those days happen about 80 percent of the time." He agrees that for the most part, people are nice. Sometimes there are a few that aren't and 'you avoid them'. My friend Curtis rides the bus on a regular basis, sometimes just to get out, and he has many positive things to say about the drivers. "We try," John says, and I think they have a lot of success.

I've got a routine now. In the mornings I meet up with my new friend Kelly as we make our way to the station. On the way home I jaunt down Main Street, consider getting a peanut butter cookie at Simple Simon's and wave to Rikka at the Mission Inn Foundation's store. The connection to my community is undeniable. When I have my car back, I will miss these moments. Maybe I'll make the choice to have them from time to time.

By Christal Pennington