UCLA has taught me valuable lessons. For instance, sweatshirts
are particularly useful for smuggling food out of the dining halls,
and most skateboarders will not fall (surprisingly enough) when
going down the hill on Charles E. Young Drive.
These on-campus lessons are somewhat trivial, unlike the
life-altering education I have received from one of the greatest
teachers in Los Angeles: the Metro.
I am not a native to Los Angeles. In my small hometown, public
transportation is defined by cramming as many people as physically
possible into the back of a truck. Living on campus insulated in an
airtight bubble did not prepare me for the experience of commuting
either.
Stepping onto that first bus reminded me of how President George
W. Bush feels when he gets a question from an unscreened audience
member: startled, scared and confused.
I quickly overcame these emotions after realizing the benefits
of riding the Metro. On campus it is often difficult to meet new
people, with everyone always in such a rush to get to class. On the
bus, you have all the time in the world.
This is especially convenient for those of you looking for love.
On one particular trip I was approached by three charming young
men. The first had a smooth opening line: He was going to be hired
by the NBA soon. It almost made up for the fact that he was
homeless.
The second lovingly informed me that he had missed his stop a
few minutes ago, but that was OK because he was so attracted to me
he was just going to keep following me indefinitely. I blushed in
appreciation as I gripped my mace.
The third informed me he thought I looked like a man from the
back. He could have used a few tips from the first two.
Honestly, though, the strangers I’ve encountered have
taught me a lesson in appreciation. Suddenly my “bad
day” doesn’t seem so desolate when the teenage mother
of three sitting next to me has to ride the bus for an hour to get
her kids to the doctor. Or I notice that the cardboard box next to
my stop is serving as someone’s home.
I’ve also learned to be more open to advice. A bus driver
once berated me for “just standing” at a bus stop.
“You gotta move around so I know you want on!”
Now whenever my bus approaches I fling down my bags, allow my
arms to go into spasms, and kneel in the middle of the street. I
have not been left behind once.
After receiving that helpful tidbit, I actively seek out helpful
suggestions. At first, getting lost meant hyperventilating into a
panic attack. Now I take a deep breath, calmly search for an
individual who doesn’t look like he or she would mug me (the
vast majority of riders look like they wouldn’t), and ask for
directions. The kindness I’ve been shown by patient people
explaining routes and giving me directions has restored some of my
faith in humanity.
I’m much more careful about making judgments about new
people I encounter. When people stare at me, I no longer assume
they’re serial killers. I no longer open my cell phone, dial
911, and rest my finger gently on the “call” button.
Instead, I smile and attempt to strike up a conversation.
Adopting this technique has allowed me to forge memorable,
albeit short, friendships.
One woman from Central America spent 15 minutes criticizing the
way I hold my pen. A deaf senior citizen told me jokes in sign
language for half an hour. Everyone has an interesting story to
tell or some vital information to impart, and being on the
receiving end is often even more fun than being the speaker.
I bought my winter quarter sticker for my Go Metro pass a week
ago. As a now-experienced commuter I am confidently looking forward
to another quarter of planning my routes so that I do not, God
forbid, end up switching buses downtown at night ““ and
learning too much about the world and myself in the process.
If you’re looking for a more hands-on and moving
educational experience than regurgitating lecture notes into a blue
book, I highly recommend taking a little trip on a blue (or gold or
red) bus. Another plus: It’ll make for great comedy. Go visit
a museum or play volleyball in Santa Monica.
Just take the headphones out of your ears so you can hear the
driver yell obscenities at the cars that cut him off. Remember:
Half the fun is getting there.
To send love notes to Strickland in time for
Valentine’s Day, NBA players can reach her at
kstrickland@media.ucla.edu. Send general comments to
viewpoint@media.ucla.edu.