We are all in this, but not together.
In a beautiful letter addressed to the strangers one finds themselves suddenly huddled amongst under bridges during rainstorms, my coworker reflects on their “15minutes’ worth of camaraderie together.” I agree with his sentiment as it relates to unexpected downpours, but observe no such unity at a bus stop. Rather, isolation intensifies while waiting for the city bus.
I began taking the bus regularly last year, and while the routes are frequent and navigation is easy, it's unavoidable that I find myself at the bus stop, waiting. Loneliness knows many varieties: the loneliness of a convenience store at 2am; the loneliness of failed romance conjured by music. But for me, it lurks in these suspended minutes at the bus stop, and I catch myself thinking of Fanny Howe’s description: “Loneliness is not an accident or a choice. / It’s an uninvited and uncreated companion. / … It sits beside you. It’s as dark as a shadow.”
This dark shadow seems to occupy an empty chair surrounded by other passengers. Students carry bookbags stuffed with stress over assignments, exams, and social clique dramas. Office folk wear lanyards around their necks while doing mental run-throughs of presentations and pitches. Blue-collar workers, finally granted a chance to rest their limbs, try to ignore stiff joints. Or so I imagine, because I have no idea what is on their minds. Just like they don’t know what I’m thinking. The bus stop is not a place to talk with strangers. We are so close, and yet so far apart.
We cannot even bond over unspoken but mutual anticipation. Unlike those moments gathered during a storm, we are not all waiting for the same thing: Bus No. 30 will come to offer me reprieve from waiting, but the man next to me is praying for No. 43. When a bus appears in the distant traffic, it might bring relief to me but frustrated disappointment to the woman sitting next to me. Even aspirations separate people waiting at the bus stop.
As Tết approaches, Saigon’s buses will become even more crowded. Space will be taken up by gifts, ingredients, clothes, and cleaning supplies, each carried bag providing more boundaries between which loneliness thrives. Meanwhile, the routes that stretch to further destinations start to ferry luggage, reminding us that even though we may all occupy Saigon and carry in our pockets the key to a front door here, we also have other places we call home. And, perhaps most frightening, what if the loneliness we meet at the bus stop follows us home?
