Another spiritual lesson from the Portland, Maine bus system. I walked down to the Forest Ave. Hannaford today. Stopped at Trader Joes first to get a couple of goodies, 2-buck Chuck and smoked Gouda. Was looking for baguette there, couldnt find it right away, got a curious sense of urgency and checked out with my 2 items. Walked on to Hannafords, bought the bulk of my groceries that would fit in this shoulder bag that cost little 12-13 years ago, but has held up incredibly well for multiple trips to NYC and daily use containing my own bus driver gear. Stopped and browsed here and there, took my blood pressure at the kiosk in the pharmacy. Went to the express line. Instead of doing the usual dance of guessing which line would move the fastest, I listened to the little voice that said, this line is fine, and got behind mother and daughter with a load very close to the 14-item limit (I always thought, when I was working in computers at Hannaford, that we ought to program the register to sound a siren and flash lights when the 15th item was scanned, then a whole black-clad SWAT team would jump out and hogtie the customer, take them to the holding pen for shipping to Guantanamo...well, never mind). My anxious ego voice said, the number 8 bus might come any minute, but the still, small voice was stronger, clearer, more confident. When almost all their groceries were rung up, mother and daughter got into a big discussion between each other and the cashier. Different language, so I couldnt follow the plot. Mother and daughter left, and cashier called for supervisor. Around that time the Number 8 actually did pull up outside. It stops about once every half hour or forty minutes. Nevertheless, I remained calm. Supervisor came over after the cashier had made three announcements (are you getting anxious yet?). Supervisor saved the order for the previous groceries. Cashier motioned me forward. Number 8 bus still at its stop. My conscious mind reasoned that the driver was taking a bio-break at Hannafords exemplary facilities. Still, small voice still confident. No increase in heart rate or blood pressure, I felt, since I had tested it over in the pharmacy. I told the cashier, lets just put the groceries right in my shoulder bag. Without skipping a beat, we got into a smooth routine of scan, hand item to me, I pack item in bag, hands free for the next scanned item. Swiped my card, with cash back, approved (phew!), stuff the cash and receipt in my pocket, shoulder the bag, and hustle just a bit toward the door, doing a little shuffle to decide which doors to head for (chose the ones to the left of the registers). Outside, walked briskly but calmly, waving at the bus side mirror just in case. Saw as I approached, that the drivers seat was unoccupied - yes! Arrived at the bus doors at the exact same time as the driver, returning from his break. He opened the doors, I got on, he got on, and we were on our way. Ascending Preble Street, mused in gratitude. Go(o)d start to the weekend.
Posted on: Sat, 09 Aug 2014 00:37:39 +0000
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