Public Transportation Wars

I'm used to quiet commutes to school in my little blue car... whispering soft prayers to the hum of the engine. I'm used to twelve minute rides of calm before starting my day in sixth grade.

But now I sit on a bus as it rattles and bumps along the road, sliding dangerously close to parked cars. I roam the crowded streets where no one makes eye contact (it's better that way). They look down at the gum-spotted sidewalk, mysterious puddles that cannot be from rain, and dirty, scuffed shoes. The wind blows extra hard in my face as a bus roars past. I race down the stairs to the underpass and emerge at the train station. I frantically search for the correct platform. People are used to these commutes. They know which train is theirs. I appear to be the only one even slightly confused. I board a train, heart thumping in my throat. I sit, arrange my bags. Then panic. What if it's the wrong one? What if I end up going to the wrong place? What if it doesn't stop where I want it to?

I look around nervously to see if anyone appears to seem kind enough to answer my question. The Hungarian formal tense cycles through my head before I clear my throat and ask the lady closest to me. She looks a little irritated at being called out of her silent reverie, but she's helpful enough for me to know I can stay on the train.

I leave the train, walk through another underpass filled with sketchy characters I'm trying to love, yet still find myself hurrying past. I scramble to get on the right bus, show my public transportation pass, and settle down for an antsy ride... peering out the window trying to figure out where I need to get off before the bus flies past my stop.

If we're keeping score, public transportation leads 5-0.

But my success lies elsewhere: wherever I end up, and no matter what mess I have gotten myself into, I have been able to figure out how to get home. Never once have I had to spend the night in the city (or have my grandma come get me), nor have I been late for school!

Using public transportation humbles me daily. It brings me to the point of being able to ask for help when I need it, to recognize that even in my independence I need to be willing to invite others in and help me. My Hungarian has improved significantly, and my anxiousness in using the formal tense has diminished.

I have also learned the importance of acting confidently. No matter how clueless I may be, I must move with confidence, otherwise I could become a target, especially if I let on to the fact that I'm a "foreigner." I must have mastered this, because each day people come up to me asking me for directions, which always makes me giggle inside.

Somehow, I am finding so much joy in my commute. Even though I spend almost 3 hours a day on public transportation, I love the opportunity to sit and people-watch. I love seeing even the sternest face light up when receiving a text from someone they love. I like hearing a harsh Hungarian voice soften into sweetness to answer a phone call. I like seeing the kindness of strangers who stand so a young mother and child can sit, who run after me when I leave my lunch on the train, and who help carry an old lady's suitcase up the stairs.

Even though there is noise and chaos around me, I find the same peace as I have in my little blue car. I still whisper soft prayers to the tune of sirens, honks, and other commuters' conversations. And after an hour and a half and a cup of delicious coffee I start my day in sixth grade...