Connecting on the No. 2 Hyde Park Express

[FarCenter]

By Rami G. Khouri Daily Star staff Saturday, July 11, 2009
http://www.dailystar.com.lb/article.asp?edition_id=1&categ_id=5&article_id=104060

It was one of those fleeting encounters – just a random, momentary connection between two strangers whose paths intersected – that reminded me of the good things in life, and the best of human nature. It happened in a great city, namely Chicago, and in a very special place, the No. 2 Hyde Park Express Bus, between two unlikely characters: the lady bus driver and myself.

First, some background. The No. 2 Express in Chicago is one of the great bus rides of the world that I am documenting along with a few other lifelong social science research projects I am working on (in other words important issues such as identifying the best ice cream shop in Italy, or the finest smoked ribs restaurant in the United States).

It was a major stroke of luck that I quickly located the No. 2 Express Bus: It stops directly in front of my hotel on Michigan Avenue in downtown Chicago, and also stops at the other end of its route right in front of the Harris School of Public Policy at the University of Chicago, where I spent time with students and faculty every day. This particular bus also belongs to the aristocracy of urban bus rides, in my expert view.

It slowly winds through the most beautiful parts of central Chicago near Michigan Avenue and Wacker Drive, makes stops every few blocks as it rambles down State Street with its legacy of 20th century central-city shopping districts, then cuts across to Lake Shore Drive where it turns into a non-stop express that dashes down the east side of the city near the lake. This is where you get some serious thinking, reading or napping done, given the uninterrupted, smooth, steady ride, and finally the bus enters the Hyde Park area of the university and reverts to its other life as a commuter bus that stops at every other block. The No. 2 Hyde Park Express only operates during the morning and evening rush hours, giving it an extra aura of je ne sais quoi.

After a few days of riding the bus I recognized a few regulars like myself. I nodded politely to the driver as I boarded every morning, and she acknowledged my greeting with a tacit nod of the head, but no other emotion or gesture, so as not to be distracted from the serious business of keeping her eye on the road. For two years in a row, I rode the Hyde Park Express in silent, satisfied joy. This year, the third in a row, on my fourth and last day of the daily journey, as I got off the bus from the front I turned to the driver and said something like, “thanks for the great rides, ma’am. I look forward to doing this again next year.”

The large, heretofore taciturn, lady driver suddenly turned to me, beamed a smile as big as Lake Michigan, and said, “Gosh, thanks, honey, that’s sweet of you. I won’t see you for a whole year?”

“Yes,” I said, “I live overseas and visit once a year.”

“You take care of yourself, honey, and be sure to come back again next year,” she concluded, as I stepped down, and she and the bus drove away to their next stop.

I did not remember her name written on her badge. I think it was Cheryl or Chantal or something like that. She was half my age, African-American, large in size, immaculately coiffed, authoritative-looking in her driver’s uniform. She commanded respect, even deference and obedience as she expertly drove her bus, safely, smoothly and on schedule. But when she smiled, looked me in the eye, and called me “honey,” I was transformed – no longer a visitor, stranger or occasional commuter in Chicago, but a regular on the bus with a human being who looked forward to my return.

The conversation and gestures of appreciation and acknowledgment lasted no more than 10 seconds. But packed into that moment was a whole universe of human connectedness and warmth, immense dignity and professionalism in performing a demanding routine task, and the beguiling sense of pleasure and security that come from two strangers who transcend the gender, racial, national and age frontiers that separate them, and instead define a certain sense of solidarity.

Hmmm, I thought to myself later that day and ever since: Is this about how human beings from different worlds connect through instruments like mutual respect? Shared dignity? Common courtesies? Or simply the eternal, universal feel-good joys of a really great urban bus ride?


Rami G. Khouri is published twice weekly by THE DAILY STAR.

[elleng]

1. Its how HUMAN BEINGS connect,

from different worlds or not. Urban buss drivers (and cabbies) can be great sources of comfort and information, anywhere, imo.

I'm in DC now, but lived in Hyde Park for 10+ years, 30+ years ago. Sorry I didn't know about the Express! Used to take the IC, other bus lines, or get rides.

[pkdu]

2. Beautifully written article...just wish Rami could get published

in something other than the P.O.S rag known as The Daily Star.

[Bluzmann57]

3. Sometimes I go to Chicago

I live about 175 miles from that great city so it's a shame not to visit sometimes, for a ball game, Blues music, or simply the historic architecture. Anyway, a few years ago, my (now ex) wife and I went up there for a couple of days of the Cubs Convention and shopping. We walked to a small neighborhood diner for breakfast one morning and our waitress was one of the friendliest people ever. She seemed to be genuinely interested when Debbie, my ex, was talking about why we left the kid at home. He was being punished for stealing, and this waitress, a noble lady if there ever was one, got into a long involved discussion with us (mostly Deb) about child rearing and discipline. We left that restaurant with a good meal, good advice, and a friend. So the lesson learned may be that we are all the same, humans, no matter our nationality, religion, politics, or anything else. Just take the time to listen to others and treat people with dignity. The old golden rule, do unto others, etc.