By Madeline Lau
I live with my sister. This has been good and bad in a variety of ways. Good in that I always have a buddy, she’s a great cook, she takes me halfway to school and we play tennis together on the weekends. Bad in that she is my sister and sisters fight.
One of the great things about living with my sister is that she takes me halfway to school. The other half involves the LA city bus, which some people might not find terribly exciting, but I disagree!
Each day around 8:30 in the morning I hop on the Culver City bus to make my way to school. The bus drivers for Culver in the morning are somewhat chilly in the friendliness department and the bus ride is usually silent. This is very different from the afternoon bus, which I take when visiting my sister’s school. The driver is almost always a very lively and friendly woman with a huge orange weave and neon green nails who teaches me new ways to wear scarves. I love that lady. Anyway, that is the Culver bus, which is nothing like the Santa Monica bus. The SaMo bus is a little sketchy. Several times while riding the SaMo bus I have been concerned for my own well-being. Once, while taking the 3 to 3rd Street Promenade I had the misfortune of witnessing a potential brawl between the bus driver who was brushing her teeth the entire ride, an easily-upset effeminate paraplegic and his overweight caregiver, and the riders.
Apparently, there was some confusion about the man’s wheelchair and how it would connect to the bus’ safety hooks. The bus driver, an overly finicky woman obsessed with rules, refused to allow the man to ride unless he was properly buckled in. The caregiver and his patient insisted the hooks were incorrect and they could do nothing. The bus driver said she needed to call headquarters to solve this problem and get permission for the man to ride. The other riders became displeased. The bus had been idling for about 10 minutes, shouts of “We’re gonna be late to work!” and “Just go already!” began to ring out in the aisles.
I sat silently, observing, not wanting to be part of a potential bus divide, driver versus riders. After one blatantly aggravated man yelled “You got a small, petty mind!” to the driver I became concerned. The paraplegic yelled back “You wouldn’t say it was petty if it was YOU in the wheelchair!” and proved his ability to fight back. With tensions rising it was a huge relief when the bus finally pulled back onto the road and made its way slowly and shakily to Pico Boulevard. A close call indeed.
But not all bus experiences are as worrisome. I have met many inspirational people while taking public transit. Once, a woman spoke to me about her belief in the power of writing things down to help the mind make them a reality. She told me this practice had helped her land her dream job and make her one of the more successful people at the company (looking back this is somewhat questionable since she was still taking the bus, but whatever, I’m an optimist). I told her that I was currently unemployed and was having difficulty finding a job. She said I should write down exactly where I wanted to work, when I wanted to start, how much I wanted to make, etc. We parted ways and I followed her advice, only to land a great job that I really love only days later. I saw her again on the 3 heading up Lincoln Boulevard and expressed my thanks. She wasn’t surprised to see me and said that God had told her I would cross her path that day. She gave me some more inspirational advice and headed to work. With meetings like this is it any wonder that I enjoy the bus?
But soon I will be living on campus and my need for the everyday bus will become nearly obsolete. Who knows, though, when I find myself in need of motivational advice or the bizarre drama of mass transit, I might just hop on the 3 and cruise on down to Santa Monica for an adventure. Something crazy is always happening there anyway.
Madeline Lau is a Scio High grad attending college in Southern California.
