I missed the last bus out of the University to Toronto. So, I had to take a bus down to Kitchener to catch the next Greyhound, which happened to be leaving at 7:00. At least, that’s what was written on my photocopy of the Greyhound schedule. It turns out, the bus was scheduled to leave at 7:30. Bah, so I was stuck waiting there for a long time.
When I got to the terminal, no one was waiting for the Toronto bus at the time, so I took my spot as the first in line. Moments later, along comes this guy who must have been in his late teens. He had bad teeth and seemed to be just a tad hygienically challenged. His hands seemed to be covered with some dirt that just didn’t look like it could be easily washed off. I’m not sure what happened, but he started chatting with me for a moment or two.
“This is the bus to Toronto, right?”
I responded with a “yes”. I guess I seemed friendly and open enough that he started talking to me some more about how he was trying to catch a trip to Peterborough. While in conversation, he was spitting and grabbing his crotch a lot, making me think, “man, how uncouth”. Despite all this, I kept on responding and kept up the small talk. He was looking around him at all times, almost as if he was wary of everyone around him. Indeed he was. As it turns out, he was from a small town north of Waterloo. Population: 3000. It was the kind of town with one stop light, which really was more of a flashing beacon. So, he was feeling uneasy on the Kitchener street with so many people around. “I’m just wondering how many of these people are crackheads,” he said as he peered around.
Now, this was interesting to me. I mean, I looked around, and things seemed pretty normal. I wasn’t afraid of getting jumped or anything, I mean, it’s Kitchener. Geez. I know Kitchener has a large population, but it still feels much smaller than say…Scarborough, right? And here’s this guy, thinking that it’s a big town with a lot going on. I was intrigued. I mean, I’ve mentioned before that I’m not a big fan of Downtown Toronto. I can only imagine how paranoid he’d feel in the core of the city. It sort of amuses me. He expressed a lot of fears about getting lost in the city. “What if I can’t find the bus to Peterborough?” I kept telling him that he’ll be fine. I guess I take it for granted how the bus terminal can be a daunting place for a guy like him.
As the conversation bore on, I got from him that he’s a high school drop out…either that or trying to finish (I forgot what). I told him that I needed a break from classes, and he seemed in shock. What? You’re still in class? I felt old. He has a job working with carpet vinyl, and he’s getting paid rather well, too. Hell, it’s better than some of my old co-op jobs. I felt the need to give him encouragement, saying that as long as he’s doing something useful, he’ll do fine in life. I suppose I believe my words. I mean, I can’t imagine myself going into a trade. The thought is so foriegn to me. So as he stood there talking about his job and how he’s glad he’s working, I felt that he was on the right path for himself, just like I’m on the right path for myself. Now that I think about it, the thought of going to University must have been so foreign to him as well.
The bus ride was short. I slept through most of it. When I got to my stop in front of the Royal York, I wished the guy well. He extended his dirty hand, and without hesitation I shook it firmly, telling him to “take it easy”. I think he’ll be just fine. I didn’t even know his name.
As I walked away, somewhere in the back of my mind I felt the need to wipe my hands or something. I quickly supressed them. In those few hours, I got to see a window into a way of life that was much different than mine. I’m glad I was able to talk to this uncouth dude.
I wish him well.
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