If I am able to catch the 12:46p.m. train from the Lake/Midtown station, I can scurry on over to catch the 4B when I exit the Hennepin station. On that 1:10 bus, I see the same woman. She sits in the same spot every day...right up close to the driver. Unlike others that vie for that coveted seat, she never speaks to the driver. No mindless banter about route changes or other passengers. I think she likes that seat because she can get a good look out into the world. Her fifty year old self is betrayed by her right hand as she grabs at the safety pole...she is transformed into a little girl holding onto the prized horse on the carousel. While others on the bus strive to capture that facial gesture that balances apathy and an appropriate dose of Minnesota nice, she seems to have a vacant gleeful stare. An oxymoron, I know.
It has taken me 31 years to attempt to master a public transportation system. I am not going to flog myself for not getting with it a bit earlier, rather bask in the glow of my new knowledge set. I feel smart when I ride the bus. Smart in every cell, not just the grey matter.