Chapter 12. Walking amok

I have been known to walk amok too. I’ve gotten lost or taken detours into dangerous territory on more than one occasion. There can be some good in being lost. Opportunity arises for God to step in when we can’t help ourselves.

Author Barbara Brown Taylor extols the merits of the spiritual practice of getting lost and tells her story of “Once, when I took the wrong train to the New York Botanical Gardens and ended up walking through a pretty scary neighborhood in the Bronx, a bus driver stopped and opened his doors just for me.  ‘I don’t have the right change,’ I said, my eyes huge with fear. ‘Get in,’ he said. God drove a bus in the Bronx that day.” (p 83, An Altar in the World)

I have a similar experience during a 2007 trip to Corpus Christi, Texas.

It is a week-long foray for Gregg and me and another couple. The guys are ‘seriously’ attending Stephen Ministry leader training and us girls get to ‘frivolously’ sight-see. Monday morning Diane and I brave public transportation to get to our touristy destinations. Part of that transportation system named "The Shoreline Connection" uses trolleys with four different routes to connect downtown, bay front, and beach attractions. Our first trolley driver is a friendly Hispanic gentleman with long pony-tailed hair who tirelessly explains what to see and do on his route and answers our questions with recommendations of where to eat and what trolley to catch next from the Staples station so as to get to the USS Lexington Museum. 

We make the connection and do a tour of the US naval aircraft carrier that was docked in Corpus Christi in 1991 after being in service for 50 years. After touring the carrier ship and eating lunch, we flag down and catch a trolley to take us back to the Staples station. 

From there I head off alone, footing it to a CVS pharmacy in search of replacement reading glasses (the pair I brought along went missing: must have left them on the plane). I know the location of the store as the intersection of Staples and Ayers, and from the crude map in my possession I estimate the distance to be maybe a mile. So I start walking, and right away get a few stares – I think due to the fact that I am the only one that day in knee-length shorts (the air temperature was cold for Corpus Christi) and one of only a very few Caucasians (most of the bus patrons were Hispanic or Black). The Staples station is near the county courthouse and jail, and we earlier noticed numerous bail bond shops, pawn shops, etc. – not the most upscale part of town.

Not long after I cross the street upon leaving Staples bus and trolley station, I hear a couple short honks. When walking, I assume that honking is rarely meant for me, and if it is directed at me when in unfamiliar territory, it’s probably best not to look. So I ignore it and keep walking briskly. I’m a fast walker anyway, and with a sense of potential danger, I kick it up a notch. 

One more block, more honking. I don’t turn my head to look. Another block and honk. Out of the corner of my eye I see a bus slowing down across the street. At the next honk, I look at the bus, and see the driver motioning me to come.

I recognize the driver as the friendly Hispanic driver of the morning trolley (turns out he had two shifts: the trolley route in the morning and city bus in the afternoon). When I get in the bus, he asks me what I am doing, where am I going? He directs me to stay by him and hands me a ticket for bus pass. 

I say, “I have change, I can pay,” and he responds “this is my treat, we like to take care of our guests.” I explain that I am headed to the CVS, he says, “that’s far, like 15 blocks, and this isn’t the best neighborhood,” and asserts that I need to be riding the bus. 

To my mention of my need for reading glasses he pointed out that not far ahead was a Family Dollar. I say that would be great, and before he lets me off he instructs me to wait for bus #5 at the bus stop on the same block as the store, “do you see it there on the corner? The #5 will be coming (he looks at his watch) in 14 minutes.” 

My new bus-driving friend lets me off in front of the Family Dollar store. Upon his exit, I’m pretty sure he’s shaking his head and smiling about the silly white woman, and later likely telling the story to his bus patrons and repeating it to his family that night.

So I do as he instructs after purchasing the glasses, and wait for the #5 bus, all the while feeling a little uncomfortable. An obviously and self-admittedly drunk man comes and sits beside me and starts up a conversation, so we talk while we wait. 

At the Staples station I decide to walk back to the hotel: it appears that the streets are not as barren and thus safer and I still want to get in a walk. But mostly I don’t want to stand conspicuously at the station while studying a brochure to figure out which trolley would take me back to near the hotel. [By this time I feel like I have a sign on my back that reads “dumb white tourist – come take advantage of me!”]

God drove a bus in Corpus Christi that day.

"The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper." 

- W.B. Yeats