I Forgotted My Wallet

There's a young man who rides the same bus I do every morning. He is mildly handicapped, a condition that exhibits itself in a series of facial ticks and a seeming inability to remain still for any length of time. I watch him as he paces up and down the length of the bus station, arms windmilling, mouth grimacing, all the while keening a shapeless tune in the piping voice of a child. He is a large, well muscled boy. He would appear threatening if he were not so obviously as harmless as a puppy. He owns a bicycle that he hoists to the holder at the front of the bus, tugging at the handle bars several times to make sure it's secure before he finally boards.

This morning I and my fellow riders had all taken our seats before he climbed aboard. I opened my book. Others fired up their cell phones or snapped open the morning paper. The young man stood before the driver, a nervous smile on his face. "I forgotted my wallet." he said. The driver peered at him. "So, you don't have any money?" The young man shuffled his feet nervously. "No, no money." he said. The driver waved a dismissive hand. "I can't let you ride if you can't pay the fare." The boy's smile faded and he backed off the bus. I was watching closely by this time and I could see his hands shaking as he began lifting his bike off the carrier. I looked around at the other passengers. Most were ignoring the situation, heads down, involved in their own reading or texting. One woman glanced my way and rolled her eyes so hard I'm surprised her neck didn't snap.

I got to my feet and strode to the front of the bus. "I'll pay for him." I said. The driver smirked and said, "He forgotted his wallet." I shoved five singles and two quarters into the machine and glared at him. "He deserves more consideration than you're giving him." I called to the young man. "Come on in. I'm buying you an all day pass." The boy fairly bounced back onto the bus. "Thank you!" he shouted.

I returned to my seat, keeping my open book in my lap. I was angry and sad; angry at the uncaring attitude of my fellow passengers, sad that this boy was merely a shadowy annoyance to a good part of the world.

At least today, I hope, the young man felt the tiniest bit of kindness.