“Espere la luz.” I read this phrase each day as I
prepare to get off my bus.
Posted above the exit, it means, “Wait for the
light.” Funny how apt that expression seems at times.
I’ve been riding the bus to work every day since I came to
work at UCLA Medical Center five years ago.
Several times when I’ve told people I ride the bus every
day, I have felt the need to immediately explain my decision by
adding, “It’s really convenient,” or
“It’s so much cheaper!” I become suddenly
enthusiastic, as if my choice were under particular scrutiny.
One person told me soberly, “I respect you for not
driving.” I blushed unexpectedly. I am an iconoclast! How
funny to be regarded as such for doing something so
commonplace.
Riding the bus every day, one always has a negative story or two
to tell: the time the bus passed over your stop, the time someone
argued loudly with the driver, the time the bus was crammed full of
people so you were practically in someone’s lap.
However, these stories are the exception to the rule for me. I
truly enjoy riding the bus.
I never have to worry about fighting my way through traffic, I
can read or do crossword puzzles on the way to work, and I can gaze
out the window and enjoy the view. It’s relaxing, and a nice
start and end to my day.
Once, I struck up a casual relationship with a young woman who
was pregnant. Every day we’d smile and chat a bit.
A couple of years later I ran into her on the street with her
toddler. It was so sweet to recognize each other and to see the
baby she had been carrying all those months.
The funny part was we never even knew each other’s name.
And yet, as corny as it might sound, I doubt either of us would
ever forget the other.
Chivalry might be dead on the road in Los Angeles, but on the
bus to and from UCLA each day, I’ve found that it’s
very much alive.
Leaving work, there’s always the rush to cross the street
and catch the bus before it leaves the stop.
Often, the traffic light seems to take forever as I wait to run
across and jump on my bus before the light changes.
Recently, I was impatiently waiting on the corner for the light
to change as I saw my bus pull into its stop.
I ran across the street, fully expecting that I would miss the
bus but wanting to give it a good try before I gave up.
To my surprise, the bus driver kept his doors open until I
reached the corner.
When I got there, smiling and panting, I realized that he had
been watching me even as I stood at the corner and had, in fact,
waited to leave until I had crossed.
I murmured a breathless and sheepish, “Thank you!”
He smiled, winked and said, “You should know, I’d never
forget ya!”
Espere la luz. Wait for the light.
Smiling to myself as I get off my bus and head to work, I muse:
I think I found it.
Colby works at the UCLA Medical Center.