Mario...

It seems that half my experiences occur on the bus. I met an American man from Miami a couple of weeks ago, and we had a good conversation. He was with his daughter, a beautiful 10 year old of mixed heritage. Then a couple of days ago, I was waiting for the bus and saw a dark skinned lady. I asked if she was Indian, and in perfect American English, she said, “No, we’re from Florida.” That’s when I noticed her daughter quietly sitting and smiling at me. Yep, same girl. On the bus, being the expert I am, I quizzed her on reading Hangeul. It was nice to see a familiar face, and she and I shared what we had learned while in the country.

Yesterday, on my way to Daejeon Station to catch the KTX, I was stared at by a little Korean girl. I was seated, and she was standing next to her mother behind me. I said, “An yang,” and she hid. Her mother encouraged her and eventually we spoke a little. The girl was 8 and her brother, seated on mama’s lap was 3. He was not bashful. A big toothy grin was on his face. I’ve never wanted to make anyone uncomfortable, so after a few words, I turned back to the front. Then a few moments later a little hand appeared in the corner of my eye. I looked and in it was a single wrapped piece of candy. The little girl shyly smiled as I thanked her and enjoyed the treat.

Forrest Gump would appreciate the bus situation. “You never know what you’re gonna get.” All the buses are on a schedule, but the ride varies greatly from one to the next. Most of the time it’s a normal ride, but occasionally you get one of two extremes. I’ve been on buses when the driver seemed to be taking his Sunday afternoon drive. But this morning was the opposite. I saw him as he slid to a stop. Mario was at the wheel, and he was on a schedule. He obeyed the red lights and even came to a complete stop to let people on. But as soon as the doors closed, you had to grab hold of something or you’d be piled in the back of the bus.

Curves were no problem either. These babies have short wheel bases specifically designed for curves, and I think Mario began his career as a quality control tester. The only time I was ever truly unnerved was the other time I rode with Mario. We were about a ¼ mile from our T intersection. The light was green, and there was no one in sight. Time slowed down as Mario hit the gas. We accelerated, and I began to notice the nice foliage directly ahead of us. Limbs seemed to sway in slow motion as we careened toward them, and just as we were about to enter the intersection we coasted some more. At what I knew was past the last possible moment, Mario eased on the break and made a spectacular sweeping left turn using our entire side of the road. A Formula 1 driver would have been proud. I made it to church early that day.