Next Stop!
- T. Michelle
- Mar 12, 2021
- 3 min read
I rode two public buses each day, to and from my Catholic middle school. I was easy to spot in a white-collared shirt, green and blue plaid skirt which was too long to be cool, a yellow sweater, and blue and white shoes whose size (incorrectly) suggested that I was going to be tall one day (womp!). My overstuffed, green, L.L. Bean bookbag was often slung over one shoulder when standing (wearing your bookbag on both shoulders wasn’t cool yet) or on the seat beside me if one was available.
Getting on the bus was usually not an issue. If it was the first bus, I carefully fed my dollar or coins into the fare machine and asked the driver for a transfer, a fragile piece of paper that would allow my entry onto the second bus. If the second bus on my trip, I simply handed over the transfer to the driver. Mission accomplished. Easy.
Now the exit… a more challenging proposition.
Generally, it was supposed to go this way: I pushed a bell (or pulled a string) and a sound would let the driver know I wanted to get off the bus at the next stop. I’d stand up once the bus came to a stop and happily hop off of the bus. And best case scenario, that’s exactly what would occur.
But more often than I care to remember, it didn’t go down that way.
I would press the bell (or pull the string) and wait for the bus to slow so that I could safely stand and exit. But, at times, despite my signaling, (it seemed that) the driver would actually accelerate past my stop! Like, floor it!
Maybe the driver didn’t hear the bell;
Maybe the driver forgot;
Maybe I didn’t press the bell hard enough;
Maybe the driver was trying to make it through the yellow light, just past my stop, before it turned red;
Maybe the driver just didn’t like me (adolescent self-absorption anyone?)…
Whatever the case – stop missed. From there, I’d frantically ring the bell to ensure that I could get off the bus at the next opportunity in order to begin the long walk back to where I needed to get off! With that big a$$ bookbag on one shoulder. Frustration on 1000!
But with time and experience, I got pretty good at getting off the bus without a missed stop. Eventually I learned to
Use timing to my advantage – signaling too soon meant the driver might forget; signaling too late meant that they might accelerate through my stop. Paying attention to the driver’s patterns early helped me to understand how I might need to navigate the ride and my successful exit.
Signal my intention clearly – with experience in bus-riding under my belt, I learned to use my voice and the bell to let the driver know I needed to get off. Despite being all of 5 feet, I’d loudly belt out “next stop” to make sure that the driver was clear about my desire to exit. Obnoxious? Maybe. But I wasn’t asking permission, I was stating my intent.
Use my physical presence – I was petite but eventually I saw the value of movement and proximity to get and keep the attention of the driver. I moved closer to the bus driver after announcing my need to exit via bell and voice. Often, I'd make a point of sitting or standing beside the door right before my stop.
I had not thought about riding the bus to grade school for years. But reflecting on those experiences has blessed me with insights on how to navigate other exits with intention, success, and grace. Like when the pace of my life feels too fast. Or when I need to remove myself from a situation that no longer serves me.
To that middle school girl with the too-long plaid skirt, awkward saddle shoes, and overloaded backpack, riding the bus – thank you, sis! You still are teaching me some things! I’m sorry you missed your stop (a bunch of times) but I’m grateful for what you learned in the process.
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