Food for Thought on the Bus
The woman was not a U.S. native. I’m not sure where exactly she was from. She spoke with what I thought might be an Indian accent, and when she boarded the bus, so too did a delicious curry smell.
A young woman had boarded the bus with her and was explaining to her which stop to get off at to go to the hospital. I assume they’d just become acquainted at the bus stop.
“Do you need to go to the emergency room?” asked the young woman.
“Yes, my baby is sick,” replied the woman sitting next to me.
Then, my phone rang. I pulled it out of my bag, but no call appeared to be coming in. I opened it (yes, I have a flip phone), but no one was on the line. The ringing continued. I looked at my phone again. The ringing stopped.
A few minutes later, my phone rang again. I pulled it out of my bag and opened it. No call appeared to be coming in. The ringing continued. I looked at my phone again. I looked around at my fellow riders. No one else was fumbling to answer their phone.
My phone rang a third time. From underneath her big shawl, the woman sitting next to me pulled out a phone that was ringing my ring, and was identical to my phone. It wasn’t my phone doing the ringing!
I held my not ringing phone up to her, smiled, and said, “Same phone, same ring.” She smiled and nodded. Maybe she didn’t understand me. Or maybe she was annoyed that some lady on the bus was comparing phones with her when she was trying to get her sick kid to the hospital.
At the Speer Boulevard stop, she got up to get off the bus.
“Down the hill to Denver Health,” the younger woman said. The woman, her children, and the curry aroma got off the bus, and the younger woman took a seat next to me.
“Poor thing,” she said.
“That was really nice of you,” I said, and I thought about all four of them the rest of the way home.