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Wednesday, January 31, 2007 5:40 PM
Riding the bus at 7:50 a.m. isn’t exactly a “girls’ day out” event, but you wouldn’t know that if you rode #131 and eavesdropped.
Most early morning commutes from the suburbs are quiet as a funeral. No one talks, not even on cell phones. Riders are lost in thought, reading, or dozing.
But on this particular run, about three or four ladies have formed their own community. Call it a coffee klatch without the coffee.
One recent morning, one middle-aged woman talked about the death of her father, and how the loss of her remaining parent made her feel like an orphan.
Her bus companions – craning backwards to talk to ladies behind them or leaning forward on their seats – chimed in, sympathizing and acknowledging how hard it is to become accustomed to being parentless and the next generation closest to death.
Another morning, one of the ladies asked the woman behind her if she knew “Sharon,” and then proceeded to describe Sharon’s latest health woes – she had been hospitalized, had high blood pressure and diabetes. During the entire 25-minute ride, the woman in the front row twisted her neck to speak with the woman behind who listened intently, noting Sharon’s hospital room for a future visit.
For the ladies who regularly catch the same bus, same time, day after day – riding the bus has become more than an efficient way to commute to work. It’s produced a network of bus friends. I don’t know if the ladies ever socialize outside of work. But even if they don’t, it’s obvious they’ve formed a strong bond – a tie forged from the common distinction of being a resident who lives along route 131.
For some, the bus ride has become as valuable as their bus passes.