The Lady on the Bus

The Lady on the Bus

Recently I had the privilege of riding the Greyhound Bus for the first time. I love to travel and have spent a lot of time on the road, traveling around this country and occasionally taken a trip to a foreign location. I’ve never ridden the bus. Frankly, it just never really crossed my mind, as I own a car and am happy to drive long distances or would buy a plane ticket if my time were short and driving was not practical. Since I’ve been working my way toward a reduced tax bracket, I’ve learned that sometimes traveling on the bus just makes the most sense financially.

So I caught a Greyhound Bus to Portland recently as I was catching a flight to Philadelphia and the expense of parking my car at the airport plus the fuel I’d have to pay for to a from Portland (about 120 miles from my home) would have been much more expensive than just riding the Greyhound. The bus tickets cost me $37 round trip. I easily would have spent that in fuel just one way, so selecting the bus was a no-brainer.

My trip up to Portland was uneventful. I sat next to a woman who sat quietly and worked Sudoku puzzles while I used my iPod to listen to an audio book. The trip took about 3 hours, was boring but comfortable. I couldn’t help but to think why people have a perception of riding Greyhound as an uncomfortable and dirty experience. I’ve heard this repeated time again, “Oh God, don’t take the bus, you’ll regret it.” But when I would ask for clarification all I usually got for an answer was, “The people who ride the bus are criminals or crazy or worse.” Of course I was getting this advice from people whom had never ridden the bus, but somehow I accepted it as fact and avoided riding the bus. Besides, I had a car and was happy to drive it thousands of miles if necessary to reach my destination.

On my way home from Portland, I sat next to an elderly lady. I didn’t ask for her name nor did I offer mine. I mean, really, it was a short trip and I was very unlikely to ever encounter her again, so why bother, right? We were both in the mood for small talk and asked one another about our travel origins and destinations. It turned out that she had been on the bus for four days and was nearly home to Grants Pass, Oregon. That was one stop after my own. She started in Cleveland, Ohio on Sunday morning. This was Wednesday evening, having boarded the bus at about 6:30pm in Portland.

I had noticed her in the terminal while I waited for my bus. I noticed how well put-together she looked. Her clothes looked freshly pressed, her hair was nicely styled and her makeup looked like it had just been applied with no signs of smudging or flaking. She had a large suitcase with wheels that she rolled along behind her and moved easily and comfortably as if she were a much younger woman. Her hair was pure white and I could see that she had been a beautiful young woman at one time. Of course when I noticed her in the terminal I had no idea how long she had been traveling.

My attention was first drawn to her when some young women wearing wal-mart clothing and sporting more than a few tattoos commented loudly that old people shouldn’t ride the bus. I couldn’t help but wonder what the logic behind their thinking might have been and thought to myself that riding the bus seemed ideal for older people, especially if they weren’t comfortable driving long distances or had medical reasons to avoid driving such as eyesight that wasn’t as sharp or medications that cause drowsiness. But the girls were probably just voicing a disappointment in the lack of tattooed young men to admire on this trip and voiced their frustration against the other passengers.

On the bus that day was a pretty typical slice of working class America. There was a soldier in drab colored civilian clothes carrying a military issue backpack, several young women of various races and sizes. One middle aged woman carrying a cage containing two King Charles Spaniel puppies—that were complaining about having to stay in the cage. A single father with two elementary aged children, another single father, who looked as if he was recently kicked out of white collar work, with his juvenile-delinquent-looking seventeen year old son. Some single men of varying ages also climbed aboard the bus and one flamboyantly gay man wearing women’s ballet flats with his jeans and t-shirt rounded out the lot.

Once we boarded the bus, I chose the seat next to the elderly woman. I felt protective toward her for some reason and a man that appeared to be on speed or maybe suffered from a hyperactivity disorder was seated across the aisle from her. I placed myself between them, just in case. There was no incident arising from this man, as he just sat and fidgeted the entire ride, stopping to smoke in Salem, which seemed to calm him considerably.

The lady and I struck up a conversation before the bus even got underway. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing all the weeds in her flowerbeds when she returned home, but was eager to get back to gardening. She told me about her trip to Ohio for her grandson’s high school graduation, about an incident on the bus where the driver had to eject a passenger for using vulgar language, and how she would sleep while she rode to and from Ohio. I learned along the way that she is eighty eight years old, has four children a dozen grandchildren and recently became a great grandmother for the first time. She spoke about her various different trips on the bus through the years and why she rode the bus due to a fear of flying.

She was very sharp and would discuss things like computers and why she just didn’t want to waste her time trying to learn how to use one. She didn’t like them and felt spending time at her age engaging in things she found frustrating as wasting what time she did have. She enjoyed working in hospice, gardening, knitting and various other arts and crafts. She was active in her church choir as well as participating in a choir for seniors only. She kept very busy. She had a great passion for hospice work after experiencing the need for hospice when her husband was dying. He’d been gone for about a year when I met her on that bus, and she had nothing but the highest praise for hospice and what a blessing it was for her family.

This woman reached me in a way I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before. My experience with the elderly in my own family was that of sickness and pain and immobility. My family has been stricken with arthritis and diabetes and renal failure and Alzheimer’s disease. My experience with aging has always been a negative one. But this lady had a very good attitude and a sharp mind. I asked her to what she attributed her good health, and the answer was inspiring: She has been a vegetarian since her 30’s and gets outside into the fresh air as often as possible. She didn’t say that staying busy and active were factors, but I’d be willing to bet that has as much to do with her good health and longevity as the healthy diet and fresh air.

I don’t know her name, but she has inspired me just the same. Thank you, Lady-on-the-Bus.