There's something so urban-ly romantic about taking the bus.

The constant memorizing of schedules, the map of streets you have to keep tucked into your mind at all times.

The main issue is that I'm what some would call geographically challenged. Something about the lines on maps never seemed to click and I have little to no spatial awareness.

But recently I've been hopping on buses, and gradually learning to navigate through my city. I'm learning all these little things that I never knew before. 

For example, the 57 is almost always late. This means you can count on it to be late, except for the few days that it's early. 

Around 9:45 am on 40th street the 57 makes a shift change and the bus drivers will always comment on how their bosses have messed up everything. They'll complain about the schedules. Apparently students have been getting to school later, it takes them 6 minutes to discuss their woes. I'm late to class. 

I've met a number of chatty old people who always seem to drop nuggets of advice or small compliments. One woman, Hassim, was on her way to Ikea. She told me she wanted to get kitchen supplies and that she lived in the town where I lived when I was small. She could tell I was Filipino and told me what lovely people they were. I listened to her talk about how worried she was about her family in Afghanistan. I hope she's doing okay. 

Always thank your bus drivers, they've had a long day and just want to go home. Especially the ones who are kind enough to stop when they see me desperately dashing towards them. Those ones are the best.