Bus Stop Conversations

In addition to this being our first time living on post, this past year was the first time I let my older daughter ride the school bus. She was so excited to have time with her friends before school. I was so excited that I could save money on gas.

Ms. Practicality over here.

Beyond saving gas, taking Izzy to the bus stop has had another profound impact on my life.

The two friends I know best here in Alaska? I met them at the bus stop.

Back when I drove Izzy to school, on my way back to our house, I would see these two ladies, still standing at the bus stop chatting away. Aren’t they cold? I would ask myself. I wonder how long they’ve been friends.

And then it happened—I got my car stuck in the snow backing out of my garage. And not just stuck in an out-of-the way spot.

Not me, no.

I got my car stuck in the very middle of the street. After a frantic call to Big Sarge (who laughed), I abandoned my car in the middle of the street and walked Izzy to the bus stop. The ladies there laughed good-naturedly at me, and then one of them told her daughter to keep an eye on mine on the bus to make sure she knew what to do. The bus came, Izzy was on her way to school, and then these two nice ladies walked with me back to my car (still stuck in the middle of the street) to help me get it free.

History was made.

The next morning, I turned into one of those ladies who stood at the bus stop chatting for an hour. Did it matter that I was the “newbie” on the block, that I had only lived here for a month?

Nope.

It didn’t even matter that I lacked the intelligence to put my Jeep into four wheel drive to get it unstuck. (What can I say? I’ve lived too long in the South.) These two ladies who stood at the bus stop and talked were now three. Carrie and Ashley were, and are, some of the friendliest people I know.

When I need a cup of sugar, a glass of wine, or an emergency babysitter, I know just where to go.

And our conversations? Nothing is sacred. We talk about our husbands. We talk about struggling to lose weight. We talk about why my neighbor doesn’t close her windows, even in the cold. (We have come to the conclusion that she is mummifying a body up there.) And we don’t discriminate against Carrie for being an Air Force wife—Ashley and I give her some friendly teasing about her husband’s four month deployments—but she is one of us.

A bus stop lady.

When a car speeds past the stopped school bus, Carrie and Ashley are there to hold my coffee cup while I run down the street to get the plate number. When Carrie is in a funk, Ashley and I will take her out shopping. We help each other out. We go to water aerobics together for laughs. And if you can’t be friends with someone after going to a water aerobics class together, you might want to see someone about that.

Friends are waiting for you, dear reader, in the most unlikely of places.

Put yourself out there.

You might just find the Laverne to your Shirley.