All from unexpected human interaction

There are days when the overcrowded bus is almost too much to handle.   After a long day at a stressful job with voices crowding my head the last thing I want to do is walk 10 minutes to the Transit Mall (funny store when I first moved to Long Beach I thought it was an actual mall where the buses happened to gather, boy was I severally disappointed on my first trip downtown to discover it’s simple a clever name for a bus depot) to climb on to a crowded bus mixed with grouchy people heading home from work, teenagers heading to pre-curfew hours of freedom, old women with their personal pull shopping carts that take up the first part of the bus, and that always crying baby.   Sometimes it’s more than I can handle, but other days it’s exactly what I needed.

A life spent riding and/or waiting for the bus can bring one untold adventures!   As someone with a visual impairment I don’t have the luxury of sliding into my own car, listening to my own radio, and driving straight to my destination without any human interaction.   While I often long for that after a long day of human interaction, the bus forces me to have unexpected interactions that those not forced to ride miss out on.   These interactions can be joyful, sad, laughter inducing, painful, nurturing….etc.   No matter the emotions triggered there is one common thread; they are memorial.   There are many days that I step off the bus shaking my head either good, bad, or annoyed at what just occurred.

Today was one of those days.   I had a particularly hectic day with lots of people pulling me in multiple directions.   I kind of felt like Stretch Armstrong on his final leg with four children tugging at both arms and legs.   Crawling onto the bus I just sighed a little.   An older man with scruffy ZZ Top-style white beard, Navy Veteran hat, and red t-shirt that proclaimed himself, “chick magnet” sat across from me.   The man gazed at me for a minute or two.  I crossed my legs almost feeling the question coming before he said it, “Are you blind all the way or some of the way?”   It’s a pretty typical question for a legally blind person, especially if we’re not wearing sunglasses and carrying a tin of pencils for sale.  “Part of the way,” I said telling him about my vision.

Instantly he found a sense of companionship with me, telling me about the surgery he had for his detached retina.  He went on to tell me that he was a patient at one of the hospitals I serve.   I told him I worked for that agency.   He smiled and said, “I know you all have been in the news, but I want to tell you I have gone to the hospital here in Long Beach for a long time.   They treat me like a king!”   He went on to describe the services and care he receives from one of the facilities I work with.   I could feel a sense of overpowering joy and inspiration.   He was why I do what I do.  

In a ten minute bus ride, before he got off at his stop, the bus had given me a gift through the scruffy bear "chick magnet" old man (who knew).   The bus reminded me of the purpose in my career and the role I play serving/helping others.  It reminded me of the type of person I am and strive to be.   I am, at my core, one that nurtures and cares for others.   That's where I find my strength.   That doesn't make me selfless, but a little selfish because I'm feeding my sense of self in this.   He both reminded me of my purpose, while giving me a much needed jolt of positive energy that my nurturing ego needed.   If I didn’t ride the bus and simply hid in my car driving home emotionally exhausted I would have missed that surge of energy and reminder of who I am, how the world sees me, and how I fit into this world from my unexpected human interaction.   Moment’s like this make me happy that I have to climb onto a crowded bus that is either too stuffy or hot or with artic air conditioned temps.  

For those of us that are forced into unexpected human interaction, it’s an opportunity to step outside of ourselves through connection.   We are social beings.   Social Learning Theory discusses how we develop and process through interactions with others.   They teach us about ourselves, the world around us, and how to fit/interact with that world.   At 32-years-old you think I was done developing, but a life riding the bus says otherwise.