ADVENTURES IN PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION: Yin and Yang
“Pardon me, sir. Would you be able to change a dollar for the bus?”
I’m standing at the bus stop on the corner of Fair Oaks and Colorado in Old Town Pasadena. He is older gentleman in slacks and a blazer. I’m not using “gentleman” lightly. He seems uncommonly courteous. The kind of person for whom the term should be reserved. I ask whether four quarters will do, and we make the trade. He then introduces himself, which is not common in such an exchange, and he uses both his first and last names, rarer still. It seems like an old-world tradition that he’s just held onto. Following his cue, I introduce my self as well – first and last name. I can’t recall his because I wasn’t even good at saying it. But that’s probably OK because if history holds, he’ll have problems with “Ken Bolding” too.
He initiates a conversation about the weather, but even that isn’t typical. He likes that it has been foggy and overcast today because he finds the variety delightul. He comments that the usual dry weather is good for asthmatics but this weather is great for “people like us.” I’m not sure to what group he thinks we both belong, but I think I’m OK with being a member. He reveals that he had been an Armenian orphan who had been sent to live in Palestine. He had also lived in Israel for a time and talks about how much he liked both cultures. He speaks about the kindred nature of the Islam, Judaism, and Christianity and the beauty he finds in each. I ask how long he’s lived in the states. He replies that he has been here since 1968. “Wow,” I say, “three years less than I’ve been alive.”
“Well you certainly don’t look your age,” he exclaims. ”
“More so now that my hair has gotten grayer,” I tell him. He is 30 years or more my senior, but we have almost the same amount of gray hair.
“My lady friend encourages me to use Grecian Formula,” he tell me, “but it’s too much trouble.” On this we definitley agree. The bus arrives and we part. It turns out that he needs a different bus and must walk down a block to get it.
As I write this on my phone on the way up the hill, a slightly crazy guy, who has been speaking quietly to himself, rips a horrific toxic fart as he heads for the back door. It befouls the air and drenches us all in his stench.
Yep, public transportation. The Yin and the Yang.
Originally posted March 26, 2013
