Meeting an Angel on a Bus

I remember sitting at the front of my eighth-grade class, looking up at my English teacher as she paced in front of the students. Her hands were on her hips, and a smile was on her face. I remember she turned to the class with an air of importance and mystery. Then, she cleared her throat as if a frog were going to leap out of her uvula and teach us the correct way to add and subtract fractions.

With braille writers clinking behind me, I didn’t hear her question right away. I was looking up the books in my school library on the laptop in front of me, so it took a while for the question to sink in. Her perfume wafted in and out of my nose as her pacing picked up in front of me. Her question made us all look up in wonderment.

“What do you all think?” she had asked. “Are you smarter because you have the correct answer to a question, or are you smarter because you learned something new while trying to find the answer?”

Today, this question keeps ringing in my brain while I’m on the bus. I received a call from the Chicago Public Library. My items are ready for pickup. I haven’t been in Chicago very long, just two years, and I still haven’t taken the bus to many places.

Chicago has a very accessible bus system for disabled passengers, especially the blind and visually impaired. But I’ve mostly stayed inside and ordered what I needed online, doing my business via email or websites, even for library books. Occasionally, I would get an actual, physical item, but 98% of the time, I’d just get a book from Libby or Overdrive —- digital book services that libraries use. I wouldn’t have to go anywhere because it was all right there in front of me.

Today, I need to get to the nearest library. A book I placed on hold about two months ago has finally arrived, and I want to get it.

Chicago is a huge city. It isn’t like Tallahassee, Florida, where you can just say the name of a street, and the driver will immediately know where to go. Here, you have to know exactly where something is because one street can run all the way to the opposite side of the city.

I know the street where the library is located. I also know the address. In Chicago, all addresses are numbered based on a grid, north, south, east, and west: The further you are from the center, the larger the address number. To someone who has never traveled in a big city before, this system can be daunting. It makes sense, but it’s tough to understand instinctively. Moreover, Chicago neighborhoods can shift quickly from the crowded, familiar areas where I feel safe. The system’s certainly logical, but it isn’t easy to learn. It’s especially hard to grasp for a country bumpkin like me, who used to live in a town so small people could name all its streets.

Usually, when I go somewhere, I look up the address on Google. Then, I call paratransit to take me straight there. I didn’t want to schedule a ride just to travel a few blocks, but I didn’t want to spend $10 on a cab. So, I thought I’d take the Chicago Transit Authority (CTA) bus today.

Since I’m not good with Chicago geography, I called the CTA operator and explained that I wanted to get to the closest library. I gave her my address, and she told me how to get there, but her instructions didn’t compute in my brain. She couldn’t just email me the directions, and I was struggling to parse them over the phone. Still, I said “thank you very much!” with a smile that could smooth the wrinkles from clothes. Although I took her directions down on a voice recorder, this adventure still seemed mysterious. The city should have shuddered with looming dread.

I started by heading to the bus stop and getting on the number 11 bus. As I stepped on and smiled at the driver, I had a sudden realization. I’m hopping on a bus when I’m not even sure if I’m headed in the right direction. I’d never have done this if I had the internet at my disposal. Am I really that bored, I wondered, or that ready to learn something new? I wasn’t sure, but I was happy as can be.

“Hi!” I beamed at the driver with a smile that could cure all ills. He was an older, dark-skinned man. “Can you tell me how to get here?” I showed him the library’s address, and he hmphed in response.

“So, can you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wicked! Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

The driver made a motion with his head, but I couldn’t see well enough to tell if it was a nod or a shake. I sat down, very eager. I take in my surroundings. To my left, a woman is talking on her cell about her son, who’s home with chicken pox. Across from me, someone is staring at me with the intensity of an armed guard.

“Hey, son!” he calls, leaning forward and tapping me on the knee. I’m guessing he assumes I’m completely blind.

“Yeah?” As I answer, I feel an urge to check my email on my phone so as not to focus on this conversation.

“Where you goin’?”

“I’m going to the drugstore.” I lie, hoping this man will get off the bus before me.

His breath stinks of alcohol, and his iPhone keeps receiving text messages in his pocket. He goes on tapping me as he talks. “That’s good,” he hoots.

I dig my Nokia out of my pocket, sorely tempted to check my email. Instead, absently, I open and close menus. I look to my right to see if I notice any familiar landmarks whizzing by. Instead, I see a gorgeous face. First, I notice bright, brown eyes that seem to drill into my soul with a piercing intelligence. It takes all my willpower to take in this man’s other features. His face is smooth. He looks like he was granted the gift of charm by a fairy godmother. A warm, inviting smile completes his features. His hair is cut short, emphasizing his thin cheeks, full lips, and somewhat large ears. My gaze trails down his face to rest on his long, lean arms. Then, it passes down to his big hands, which are firmly gripping a red and white cane with long fingers. His short-sleeve shirt shows off his average-sized muscles. These features are so entrancing that I take a few minutes to open my mouth in an effort to utter something intelligent.

“Hi,” I croak as if I haven’t had water in years.

The man flashes a smile that gleams in the sunlight. The more he speaks, the more I forget I’m on a bus with other people. His voice feels like arms wrapping around me to pat me on the head. It’s gentle and silver-tongued. He sounds sure about everything he says while seeming incapable of hurting a fly.

“Why, hello there, young man.”

I gulped back some saliva before simply replying, “Hi.”

“Hello, young man,” he says again, warmly.

I shudder to be under such a potent spell from just a few words. Yes, I’m entranced. I totally forget where I am. I forget my own name.

“Hi,” I repeat. I fight to keep myself from telling him how dashing his voice is. “I’m Robert Kingett.” I extend my hand and then wonder if he has more or less sight than me. As our hands glide over each other, I deduce that he’s a total (that is, completely blind).

When we finally shake hands, I can’t help tickling his palm with my fingers. I hope this flirtatious question is welcome. I hope I’ve read him right. To my delight, he tickles me back, and I beam.

“Wonderful,” he replies, though I’m not sure if he means my tickle or my name. “I’m Travis.”

I swallow my saliva before any falls out the gaping chasm of my mouth. A few seconds later, I’ve composed myself. I try speaking again. “So,” I cleverly begin, “you’re on a bus, huh? I am, too!” I’m sure this conversation is the most intellectually stimulating he’s had in his life.

He giggles, and my skin tingles. His laughter is even more infectious than his utterly hypnotic voice. “Yes, I’m certainly on a bus. So, where are you really going, hmm?”

“Uh.” I respond with aplomb that would pride a professor. “Um. Uh. I’m going to the library to get some NLS books and DVDs.”

“Really? Budlong?”

“That’s right. I ordered some regular audiobooks and some NLS books, and they’re waiting for pickup.”

“I’m going for the same reason. Shall we walk together?”

His word choice delights me. “Oh, my god! Yes, we shall. We certainly sha—-”

“Ahem!” an older lady snaps, kicking me. “Pipe down.” Under her breath, she mutters, “Fuckin’ faggots.” I thwack her back with my cane just to have the last word.

Soon, the bus has stopped. Travis and I step off the bus and walk together. He’s easily six feet tall. Leaving the bus, he’d had to duck to avoid the display for deaf passengers, which displayed the street announcements that the blind heard instead via a feminine voice.

Travis grabs my elbow, and we soon set off. Our canes tap the sidewalk as if we’re troops marching onto a battlefield. We don’t have much time to talk because the walk to the library is short. There, we have to part ways since we’re getting different books and items. I do get his last name: Cornell.

On my way out of the library, I scan the entrance for Travis, but he’s nowhere to be seen. I double back inside, and I see him checking his books out. I peek at the audiobook in his hand.

He smiles, realizing who’s approached. “I see you peeking. Wouldn’t it be way more fun if I just told you the name of the books I got? You could have fun guessing the plots for a few seconds.”

Oh, my god—-Travis is a dreamboat! I cross my arms, feigning a pout as he follows me out of the library. Our canes tap out an ironically killer rock beat.

“That would be more fun,” I say. “But I’m an inquisitive soul, so I wanted to ease my inquisitive nature long enough to focus on you.” I grin confidently after that weird sentence.

He laughs and sinks down onto a wooden bench beside me. “All right, Mr. Speculative! What if we just exchange digits? Deal? The stutter doesn’t bother me —- at all.”

Normally, I’d feel exposed if someone pointed out my stutter. But he remarked on it so acceptingly that my heart leaps out through the skylight along with my spirits. I hand him my cell, and he passes me his iPhone. We enter our digits.

Then, we have to part ways again. He’s headed somewhere else, but he texts me all the way home on the short ride on the same route. I tell him he shouldn’t text and walk. He tells me we shouldn’t have taken away Pluto. I giggle, grinning even after I’ve stepped off the bus.

It’s safe to say I learned a lot today. The library isn’t as far away as I thought, and surprises can come in very strange packages and at even stranger times.

I’ve texted Travis throughout the day, though we’ve both been very busy. At night, I manage to have a nice phone call with him. This certainly is a different way to get to know someone, asking them questions, rather than looking them up online. But I’ll write more about that another time. I’m tired, and I’ve had quite the day.