A Visit

From my other journal, Friday, 25 June 2004:

My hands were full as I approached the 3rd West Bus Stop (eastbound), a coat over one arm, briefcase over a shoulder and laptop in my other hand. I saw a bus (#70 from Ogden) pull up. It obviously had problems opening it's door and a repair truck was right behind it at the stop.

Well, the young bus driver pushed the doors open and got off just as I walked up. He smiled and said something to me like, "There's my friend. You're all prepared, coat over your arm...Can I take this?" as he reached for my laptop case.

I answered, a bit flustered, "That's OK..." He hefted it, but I didn't quite let go.

When he let go, he continued, "Who'd have believed that anyone would lighten your load, even only for 2 seconds..." and smiled again. Then he went back in the bus and helped a handicapped man in a wheelchair off the bus.

He made me smile as I watched him, in his 30's with straight, shoulder-length auburn brown hair, parted in the middle, and a full beard. He had what I thought of as a regal brow. He wore a normal UTA bus driver's uniform, but the shirt was remarkably wrinkle-free with sharp creases down the arm. I couldn't see his name tag.

The thought occurred to me as I stood there considering the experience, that a bus driver would be a great occupation to use to "take the temperature" of society. They are relatively anonymous and see folks at their very most normal. They'd see regular folks interacting in a wide variety of situations, using no pretense.

When my bus pulled up, I walked back past him as he was talking with the mechanic. He patted me on the shoulder and said, "There's your ride. It'll take you right home."

I made sure to thank him for the lift he'd given me. It was good.

Still, I would like to remember: what color are his eyes?