CHICAGO — It was one of those fleeting encounters — just a random, momentary connection between two strangers whose paths intersected — that reminded me of the good things in life, and the best of human nature. It happened in a great city (Chicago) and in a very special place (the #2 Hyde Park Express Bus), between two unlikely characters (the lady bus driver and me).
First, some background. The #2 Express in Chicago is one of the great bus rides of the world that I am documenting along with a few other lifelong social science research projects. For example, I am working on the important issues of identifying the best ice cream shop in Italy, and the finest smoked ribs restaurant in the United States.
It was a major stroke of luck that I quickly located the #2 Express Bus in Chicago: It stops directly in front of my hotel on Michigan Avenue in downtown Chicago, and also stops at the other end of its route right in front of the Harris School of Public Policy at the University of Chicago, where I spend time with students and faculty every day. And this particular bus belongs to the aristocracy of urban bus rides, in my expert view.
It slowly winds through the most beautiful parts of central Chicago, near Michigan Avenue and Wacker Drive, makes stops every few blocks as it rambles down State Street with its legacy of 20th Century central-city shopping districts, then cuts across to Lake Shore Drive where it turns into a non-stop express that dashes down the east side of the city near the lake — this is where you get some serious thinking, reading or napping done, given the uninterrupted, smooth, steady ride — and finally it enters the Hyde Park area of the university and reverts back to its life as a commuter bus that stops at every other block. The #2 Hyde Park Express, as it is formally known, only operates during the morning and evening rush hours, giving it an extra aura of je ne sais quoi.
Every morning and evening, I boarded my bus at 9:18 am on Michigan Avenue and enjoyed the 30-minute journey to the university. After a few days, I recognized a few regulars like myself who took the same bus every day. I nodded politely to the driver as I boarded every morning, and she acknowledged my greeting with a tacit nod of the head but no other emotion or gesture, so as not to be distracted from the serious business of keeping her eye on the road.
For two years in a row, I rode the Hyde Park Express in silent, satisfied joy. This year, the third in a row, on my fourth and last day of the daily journey, as I got off the bus from the front I turned to the driver and said something like, “Thanks for the great rides, ma’am. I look forward to doing this again next year.”
The large, heretofore rather taciturn, lady driver suddenly turned to me, beamed a smile as big as Lake Michigan, and said, “Gosh, thanks, honey, that’s sweet of you. I won’t see you for a whole year?”
“Yes,” I said, “I live overseas and visit once a year.”
“You take care of yourself, honey, and be sure to come back again next year,” she concluded, as I stepped down, and she and the bus drove away to their next stop.
I did not remember her name written on her badge. I think it was Cheryl or Chantal or something like that. She was half my age, African-American, large in size, immaculately coiffed, very authoritative-looking in her driver’s uniform. She commanded respect, even deference and obedience as she expertly drove her bus, safely, smoothly and on schedule. But when she smiled, looked me in the eye, and called me “Honey”, I was transformed — no longer a visitor, stranger or occasional commuter in Chicago, but a regular on the bus — with a friendly human being who looked forward to my return.
The conversation and gestures of appreciation and acknowledgment lasted no more than 10 seconds. But packed into that moment was a whole universe of human connectedness and warmth, immense dignity and professionalism in performing a demanding routine task, and the beguiling sense of pleasure and security that come from two strangers who transcend the gender, racial, national and age frontiers that separate them, and instead define a certain sense of solidarity.
Hmmm, I thought to myself later that day and ever since: Is this about how human beings from different worlds connect through instruments like mutual respect? Shared dignity? Common courtesies? Or simply the eternal, universal feel-good joys of a really great urban bus ride?
Rami G. Khouri is Editor-at-large of The Daily Star, and Director of the Issam Fares Institute for Public Policy and International Affairs at the American University of Beirut, in Beirut, Lebanon.
Copyright © 2009 Rami G. Khouri – distributed by Agence Global
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Released: 13 July 2009
Word Count: 794
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