Riding the bus brings out the best and the worst in people. On my way to work, I was inspired by what I saw. A young woman gave up her seat so that an older woman would have a place to sit. “There is such camaraderie between fellow public transit riders!” I think, “I am proud to live in a place where there is love between strangers.” I am instantly filled with a feeling of warmth, and I just can’t help but smile.

This feeling doesn’t last long and many times I feel just the opposite. I find myself wanting to beat my head against the window or shaming myself for ever, ever thinking riding the bus could be a good experience.

Riding during rush hour on route 21 that runs from downtown Saint Paul to uptown Minneapolis can be one of the most horrific experiences a person will ever encounter. Just last week, I was making a transfer and the 21 left five minutes early, so I was forced to wait for 30 minutes in bellow zero temperatures for the next bus. Over and over again I played violent scenes of what I would say to Metro Transit’s customer service, the bus driver, and anyone else I could get within ear-shot of. People wouldn’t be able to help but sympathize for me, pity me even, if I really snapped. When the bus finally arrived, there is hardly even a place to stand. Every seat has a body, and every piece of aisle a pair of feet. I squeezed in. At the next stop I found myself face to face with a tough looking female teenager. She glared at me with expectantly. “What the hell does she want?” I think, “to crawl up my butt.”

“Excuse me!” says the girl.

She was not excused, and nothing in her tone delivered anything close to politeness.

“Will you get out of my way so I can get to the back,” she shouts at me.

“This is a full bus. There is nowhere in the back that has any more room for you. Everyone on this bus is cold, tired, and cramped. You should just shut up before someone helps you. Can’t you see there’s too people old enough to know Abraham Lincoln standing next to me? Where in the hell do you think you’re going to get to, on the back of the bus.”

This is what a meant to say to her. What I really said, or more so muttered was, “Please calm down.”

For the rest of the bus ride I am thinking horrible thoughts about everyone. I have no idea what the word serenity means and I’m too pissed to care. As I reach my stop, I see a stranger helping an old woman get her bags on the bus. This cheers me up, for my faith in humanity is instantly restored, for the time being.