Santa Drives a Bus

Today is my last day commuting! I never thought I'd say it, but there are a few things that I will truly miss.

To begin, the happy "carwash man" who is out with a hose at 6am and waves as I hop the fence across his property each morning on my way to the bus stop. And Bob the bus driver a.k.a. "Santa" who drives route 811 from Provo to Sandy. He is a happy jolly man in his 60's with a long white beard, cherry red nose, and a big belly. Santa to a Tee! He loves to tease, and has helped me out a few times when I've misplaced my pass; he also stops for me when I'm late so I don't have to run! (Quite a sight -a girl with a computer bag running in high heels.) Even more, it's 6am, he's been up since 4, and he still manages to be HAPPY!! Santa likes to call me "sleeping beauty" because as soon as I take my seat, within 5 minutes I'm out!

Trax is great for people watching. I must mention the "regulars." The nurse with red spiky hair, the lady who does her makeup -LOTS of it -on the train (once she even forgot to take one of her curlers out!), the Law student with a young family, the women who seem to be the real-life versions of "Sex in the City" girls (though I've never seen that show), the skinny masseuse with the cool tin lunchbox, the sweet quiet Asian lady, and the mustache man with shorts, white socks, big boots and aviator glasses.

The thing that's had the biggest impact on me, however, is getting a chance to observe the true kindheartedness of people. The ones who will get up to hold the door open for people running to catch the train. The men who will let you go first when stepping onto the train or bus, and who will practically jump out of their seat and offer them to women when there is standing room only.Or people who will give up a seat to someone who is older, not as well-bodied, or has their hands full. The thing I found most surprising is that it's not always the people who you'd expect. Sometimes it's the well-to-do businessmen, but many times it's the blue collar construction workers, or 'punk' teenagers, or young working girls who will serve others most selflessly. Their families will never know, their boss or church leaders won't see, and nor will their friends. The person they helped can only offer a simple 'thanks' in return, yet they are still willing to serve. That's true character.

Commuting hasn't been fun, but it's taught me lessons I couldn't have learned as effectively any other way. The experience has taught me how to spot someone in need and to be quick to offer the help that I can. It's taught me not to judge someone's character by their appearance, and it's taught me humility. I will never be able to repay those strangers who have brightened my day for a moment, who have sacrificed something for me, or sparked a friendly morning conversation, but what I can do is to do the same for others, and pay the kindness forward.