I'm standing in an aisle inside a subway train. As I hate "sniffers", and certainly do not want to be one myself, I try to get a hanky out of my pocket. Slowly I let my hand travel downward and reach inside. I feel a piece of cloth, get hold of it with the tips of my fingers, pull, and bring it up. When I see the hanky I'm puzzled - it's a white handkerchief, with red polka dots. I don't have handkerchiefs with polka dots, red or any other color.
The man next to me gives me a cold disapproving look. What is he looking at? Is there something wrong with me? Is my sniffing bothering him? I'm trying not to and it's the reason why I fished for my handkerchief. Only this is not my handkerchief. Is this polka dotted item perhaps his? Has my hand been in his pocket? I briefly consider asking him but decide against it. His face does not exactly encourage conversation. Slowly I lower the colorful hanky and go in search of my own pocket.
Ah, the joys of public transportation. Every regular passenger has a story to tell.
If one were to ask those passengers if public transportation should be free of charge, my guess is that the majority would say "Yes". If asked why, my guess would be that they would come up with a variety of reasons. Riders of public transportation, or buses, have to brave the elements. Rain or shine, they have to wait for the bus to show up and this can be anything from five to ten minutes.
Subway train riders have it a little better. After their bus ride they are no longer exposed to the elements, but they are far from comfortable. All shapes and sizes squirm to get to their favorite platform spots. Sometimes, they leave behind an overpowering trail of perfumes and colognes. While a single perfume may be pleasant to the nose, a mixture of six to ten can lead to a violent headache or a nauseated stomach when there is no escape for half an hour. Not to mention the highly offensive smells that can overpower an entire train when someone's deodorant fails.
There is no getting around it, people are packed like sardines in a can. Over the years both my feet have been stepped on; I have been accidentally hit in the face; elbowed in various places of my body; and shoved and bumped on a regular basis. Although my attackers' were very sorry about my discomfort, and apologized profusely, that did not make it any less painful.
Sometimes bus drivers try to show that they have compassion. On a really freezing cold winter day, they will allow more people on the bus than is determined by law. The limit is set for 80, but with a bit of good will this number can be increased to 100 or even 110. In summer passengers moan and groan if the limit gets exceeded, but in winter extra body heat is welcome.
"People can you move a little further down?" is a common, repetitive request from every bus driver as another passenger makes their way up the steps. In summer this passenger might be huffing and puffing from the heat. In spring or fall the passenger might be shaking the rain from a dripping umbrella. In winter the passenger might be stomping the snow off boots.
Whatever the case may be, everybody obliges. Nobody wants their fellow man suffering from heatstroke, risking pneumonia, or freezing to death. People are friendlier to one another in winter. In summer tempers easily flare, but rain and freezing weather bring people closer together. They comment on how cold it is; they comment on the amount of snow; they joke about the slipperiness of the ice.
As the bus stops for a red traffic light, blank faces longingly stare out the windows, fixed on cars down below. The car passengers look so comfortable. Dressed in slacks and sweaters they are not as bundled up as people on the bus with coats, scarves, hats and gloves. They sing and move to the rhythm of the music of their CD player. They even smile.
They are still smiling when they turn to the bus and see a number of faces staring down at them. The smile freezes at the sight of so many faces and then dies. They see, feel or understand the misery of public transportation users and I wonder if they feel guilty for their own luxury. Their big car carries only one or two people. They are warm and comfortable and they reach their destination so much faster. They won't have to walk home from the bus stop.
As if this is not enough, somewhere along the way buses and cars alike come to a sudden stop. Police are blocking the road. What is going on? Has there been an accident? Six police men on heavy bikes go by, followed by a stretch limousine adorned with flags, followed by another four policemen on bikes.
"Probably some politician," someone remarks. "Yeah, perhaps it's the Minister of Transportation encouraging more people to take public transportation," another jokes. Those who heard the joke laugh. Those who did not hear the joke smile when they hear laughter and see smiling faces. It always amazes me how easily people smile. Look at them with any negative emotion and they will turn away or become hostile, but smile at them for no apparent reason and they will smile back. They might even engage in a little chit-chat.
You have to have a sense of humor when taking public transportation. After all, the millions of commuters are all in this together, right?
I look forward to the time when I can stay at home. That I can work from home, or alternatively, have my own car again. How I miss my car. If someone had told me ten years ago that I would make this statement, I would have declared them nuts. But it's true; a car is a prized possession. It is not just a luxury item; it's a symbol of freedom.
Until I get my own wheels again I am one of millions of commuters. I definitely think that public transportation should be free. The time we waste and the inconvenience of it should be payment enough.