Strangers in the Night

Late at night, years ago, in a bus station. Why do I still remember?

Strangers in the Night

So, have you ever had a memory from long ago that seems so innocuous and insignificant that you can’t understand why you keep remembering it? This posy is about one of those memories.

Back when my daughter was away in school, she took a Greyhound bus back home. I was to meet her at the terminal. At I a.m. The terminal was a huge tunnel, close to the length of a football field and half as wide. All along one side, on the outside, were the bus ramps, dozens of them one after the other, with a door into the building for each one. Along the other side were the passenger amenities, not least of which were the bathrooms. And running down the middle was a long row of chairs, side by side, with occasional spaces between them so that people could get from the bus side of the terminal to the amenity side. I was sitting in one of those chairs, directly opposite the terminal that my daughter would come in from. At 1 a.m. I was entirely alone in that cavernous place. A few staff were up front, but I was halfway down the terminal.

A bus arrived, not my daughter’s. So, I continued to sit, uninvolved with the flurry of people coming thru the door across from me and dispersing, mostly headed to the front of the terminal. But some needed to use the facilities, and headed to the space between the chairs that was next to where I sat.

It seems almost like a film noir set. I was sitting there, only marginally acknowledging their existence, since they weren’t relevant to my mine. And I was the same to them. But then one man stopped and placed his suitcase next to me prior to heading to the men’s room. He didn’t ask me to watch it or acknowledge me in any way. Yet he clearly felt that the safest place for his suitcase was next to me.

As I sat there, sort of watching his suitcase for him, I wondered about why he never acknowledged my existence, even as he hoped that his suitcase was safe with me. But what would he have said to me? “Please watch my suitcase”? What if I said “No”? He was maybe better off just not asking. And would I have pledged to guard his suitcase with my life? No. Pragmatically speaking, just parking his suitcase next to me with neither of us having any specific expectation of each other was probably for the best.

But then a young mother came up. She was carrying a baby and had a six or seven year-old girl in tow. Apparently, her daughter didn’t need to go to the bathroom. So, Mom had her daughter sit next to me, again with no acknowledgment of my existence. What would she have asked? What if I had said no? Her best option, at least in her own mind, was to have her daughter sit next to me. So, she did.

There I was, sitting by myself amongst a flurry of people, with a suitcase and a kid next to me, and nobody so much as said hello. What should they have said? Would you watch my suitcase? Would you watch my kid? Is there any point to asking such a question of a total stranger? They could only presume the obvious, that I was waiting for a bus. And, as such, I wasn’t likely to run off with either the suitcase or the kid.

We trust strangers more than we realize. But it depends. If any of this had happened on a busy street, with me standing there waiting for someone and with people moving in different directions, I doubt that the man would have left his suitcase with me. And Mom would certainly not have left her kid. There’s something about that microcosm of a bus terminal, late at night, a little world where even strangers comingle and silently see to each other’s needs.

I’ve lived a long life. I’ve experienced immensely significant events. I’ve been seriously injured, and I’ve been seriously loved. I’ve accomplished much, and have had significant failures. There is much for me to recall, to sort thru and evaluate.

But one night in a Greyhound station holds its place in my memory. That flurry of people ended, travelers moved on to whatever was next in their lives. The man took his suitcase and walked away, as did Mom and her daughter. And I was alone again for a few minutes. Alone to contemplate what any of this signified. And then my daughter’s bus arrived.

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