Day 12: Moroccan Generosity

Friday. Gross lab. Five hours disecting the anterior forearm and palm ... and I was in a fast group. Some people took 6 and a half, some are coming back tomorrow. There are so many nerves and arteries and muscles in the forearm and hand, not to mention the axillary space with the brachial plexus (which was two days ago), that my head hurts, and I am TIRED.

So, after lab I ran to the LRC, checked the bus times, and rounded up my stuff. I had to hurry to make the 298 at 5:45pm. Walking quickly to the corner, I met a short, wavy haired woman also walking briskly towards the bus stop on the other side of the street.

"I missed my bus," she said. "I always take the 5:30 but I'm late. I hope I didn't miss the next one."

I smiled politely at her.

"I was so busy today," she continued of her own accord. "I'm going on vacation and had to finish up and now I'm late."

"Well," I finally replied, "I think you're ok. There should be another bus."

"Yes. I saw that one just pass by. I'm just hoping that wasn't it."

"Me too," I concurred.

The light turned green and the little white figure of a walking man appeared. Crossing the street, I looked right and saw two busses making their way towards our stop.

"Well, one of those should be ours ... I can't see the numbers ... ah, yep! That first one is the 298," I said.

As we merged into the fast forming line, she turned to me quickly and said "Do you have any money?" I flashed her my blue pass that my father gave me the week before. It has a stored amount of cash on it which is depleted a little every time I ride a bus.

"How much is the bus?" she queried.

"Three dollars a time," was my response.

We boarded the bus, I got my transfer, and moved down the aisle. The bus was nearly empty. The talkative woman sat by the window on a row, but I, smelling like Gross Lab, chose to sit in the aisle seat of the open row behind her so as to spare her a stench-filled ride.

Within seconds she turned to me and said,

"So I'm going on vacation. I'm going for a whole month. Take this." And with that she gave me her red bus card. "It's good until September 2nd," she continued. "I'm going on vacation for a whole month so I won't need it."

Flabbergasted, I asked "Well, don't you need it when you get back?"

"No," she replied. "It's only good for one month. I'll buy a new one when I get back. But it's only good until September 2nd."

Still in shock, I said thank you and humbly leaned back in my chair to inspect my newly received prize. It was a red zone 4 card, worth $110 a month, which gives the bearer unlimited rides on busses during the month.

After a minute or so, I struck up a conversation with the lady. She's from Morocco, heading back for a month-long vacation to see family. She works as a lab manager for Baylor College of Medicine. She's a very nice lady.

It's amazing all the types of people in this world. I love riding busses because you get to meet many of them. More than if you shut yourself up in your car. Almost all my experiences on busses have been more than favorable. People that want to be alone sit quietly, but often, there's a very nice person on the bus who wants to chat, and for a second you're like a passerby, given the chance to look into the window of a house whose curtains are usually drawn, and glimpse the story unfolding within. The bus ride ends, the drapes close, and you walk away enriched by what you experienced. And maybe you'll get a red card too.