I've been meaning to write this post for a couple of weeks now, but haven't found the time to do it until now. Fitting, since I'm writing this post on the 96 bus on my way from Portland back down the I-5 corridor. Yay for rush hour!
Growing up, I was always a little scared of riding public transportation. Mostly because my parents never took me on the MAX or on a bus while we were visiting Portland, so I guess you could call it a fear of the unknown. I was always fearful that if I rode public transportation it would immediately become a death sentence where some hobo would sense my weakness and rob/attack/brutally murder me while the other passengers tried to avoid eye contact. Fortunately I was broken of my irrational fears thanks to a pilgrimage to Spain for World Youth Day and a terrible bout with the flu there that caused me to ride the Metro without being able to care about anything except for where I could buy my next pack of tissues. Turned out I actually enjoyed public transportation (although I'm sure it helped that most of the people on the Metro were other Catholics who were probably planning how they could get the best view of the Pope).
Growing up, I was always a little scared of riding public transportation. Mostly because my parents never took me on the MAX or on a bus while we were visiting Portland, so I guess you could call it a fear of the unknown. I was always fearful that if I rode public transportation it would immediately become a death sentence where some hobo would sense my weakness and rob/attack/brutally murder me while the other passengers tried to avoid eye contact. Fortunately I was broken of my irrational fears thanks to a pilgrimage to Spain for World Youth Day and a terrible bout with the flu there that caused me to ride the Metro without being able to care about anything except for where I could buy my next pack of tissues. Turned out I actually enjoyed public transportation (although I'm sure it helped that most of the people on the Metro were other Catholics who were probably planning how they could get the best view of the Pope).
When I started my current project located in downtown Portland, I had to make the decision to pay $12 a day to park near my job site or pay $2.50 for a bus ticket. I inherited the Rose family “cheapness” gene (although I’m not quite the penny pincher as some of my extended family members who reuse coffee grounds multiple times to save a buck), so the bus plan won out. Joe drops me off at the job site on his way to work in the morning and I ride the bus home. Why don't we carpool both ways? We'll my friends, Joe was the smarter of the two of us and found a good job where you only work eight hours a day and I instead sold my soul to the construction Devil and work at least 10 hours a day, typically more. Joe wasn't so keen on waiting around for me after work and thus
began my bus riding adventures.
I have to admit, my bus ride is usually pretty uneventful. After all, nearly everyone who rides the 96 bus is a commuter from the suburbs of Portland, just trying to get home after a long day of work. If you want excitement, ride the Max to the East side. I did that once and ended up sitting next to a teenager with a skull tattooed over his entire face…definitely don't see that on the 96. Usually the biggest event on the bus is when it gets so full that it's standing room only. It amazes me that none of these upper middle class men who ride the bus have the manners to offer their seat to the older woman left standing. Come on people, there's something wrong when the pregnant lady is only one offering up her seat!
That being said, my view of my fellow bus riders changed for a better (at least a little bit) a couple of weeks ago after we encountered the Baby Lady. I don't know her real name and I only knew her for the length of our 40 minute bus ride, but I admire her. She arrived at the bus stop slightly flustered, pushing a baby stroller with a sleeping baby snuggled inside. You could immediately tell that she wasn't a regular rider; she was frantically digging for change in her wallet and looked puzzled by the reader board announcing the approximate arrivals of the next bus. Suddenly, my faith in humanity began to be restored: a nearby woman approached the Baby Lady and asked if she needed any change for a ticket. The Baby Lady declined because she had just found the exact amount of change she needed, but at least someone offered to help.
began my bus riding adventures.
I have to admit, my bus ride is usually pretty uneventful. After all, nearly everyone who rides the 96 bus is a commuter from the suburbs of Portland, just trying to get home after a long day of work. If you want excitement, ride the Max to the East side. I did that once and ended up sitting next to a teenager with a skull tattooed over his entire face…definitely don't see that on the 96. Usually the biggest event on the bus is when it gets so full that it's standing room only. It amazes me that none of these upper middle class men who ride the bus have the manners to offer their seat to the older woman left standing. Come on people, there's something wrong when the pregnant lady is only one offering up her seat!
That being said, my view of my fellow bus riders changed for a better (at least a little bit) a couple of weeks ago after we encountered the Baby Lady. I don't know her real name and I only knew her for the length of our 40 minute bus ride, but I admire her. She arrived at the bus stop slightly flustered, pushing a baby stroller with a sleeping baby snuggled inside. You could immediately tell that she wasn't a regular rider; she was frantically digging for change in her wallet and looked puzzled by the reader board announcing the approximate arrivals of the next bus. Suddenly, my faith in humanity began to be restored: a nearby woman approached the Baby Lady and asked if she needed any change for a ticket. The Baby Lady declined because she had just found the exact amount of change she needed, but at least someone offered to help.
Then came the time for boarding the bus. I don't know if you've ever tried to dismantle a stroller, keep one hand on your baby, and still hold the change for your bus ticket, but after watching the Baby Lady try to attempt this, I realized that I would kill Joe if he ever left me in such a situation. Fortunately, the man in line behind the Baby Lady offered his help and the bus driver waved her ticket fee, making boarding the bus much easier. Two more acts of kindness that helped change my view of my fellow bus riders from one of smart phone obsessed zombies to one of knights in shining armor.
Once we hit I-5, the conversation started flowing. Multiple passengers were helping the Baby Lady find which bus stop she would want to get off on and kept convincing her that her baby's squeals were not a nuisance. Eventually we learned that the Baby Lady had taken a bus that morning from Seattle and was completing her trip that evening to meet her husband for a company dinner at a restaurant 20 minutes South of Portland. She did the whole trip by herself with a (maybe) six month old baby! What amazing dedication this woman had! She was willing to travel hours on a bus with her baby just to support her husband in his work endeavors. I can't even stay up until 9:30 pm on Monday nights to support my husband at his city league basketball games. How pathetic.
Once we hit I-5, the conversation started flowing. Multiple passengers were helping the Baby Lady find which bus stop she would want to get off on and kept convincing her that her baby's squeals were not a nuisance. Eventually we learned that the Baby Lady had taken a bus that morning from Seattle and was completing her trip that evening to meet her husband for a company dinner at a restaurant 20 minutes South of Portland. She did the whole trip by herself with a (maybe) six month old baby! What amazing dedication this woman had! She was willing to travel hours on a bus with her baby just to support her husband in his work endeavors. I can't even stay up until 9:30 pm on Monday nights to support my husband at his city league basketball games. How pathetic.
My encounter with this heroic, bus riding Baby Lady helped me see that the sacrifices required of me as a mother and a wife, have only just begun. I was told by my priest that pregnancy would be a great opportunity to suffer joyfully for Christ and offer up those sufferings for my husband, my child, and anyone else in need of prayer, but I’m still only beginning to grasp that suffering won’t just come through battling morning sickness (which, on a side note, is a total misnomer—it should be called morning-noon-and-night sickness). I will be presented many opportunities to offer my sufferings to Christ: through changing a total blowout diaper at 3 am, through having to explain to my boss that I promise I won’t show up to a proposal interview with dried spit-up on the back of my shirt again, through cooking dinner for my husband even when all I want to do is nap after a long day, and maybe even through traveling all day on bus with my baby to see my husband accept an employee of the year award. Let’s just hope if that opportunity presents itself, I’ve prepared enough that the crying on the bus ride to the awards ceremony is coming from the baby and not from me.
KC 01.28.14
KC 01.28.14