This morning, I saw a man in a white dress shirt, dress slacks and a tie walking with one of those
day planners out of the block of apartments I live in. I had seen him before, but thought he
was talking out
trash to the
dumpster. This time, I realized he was walking to the
bus stop.
Most of the nearby apartments have bus stops close at hand -- but the street becomes a cul-de-sac,
and so it's a good half-mile to the nearest stop. My eyes flit to the clock in my station wagon
and see that since I left later than I wanted to that I have time. It's a humid morning, and
not ideal for the clothing he's wearing.
There's a noise when you roll down a power window. I thought it was distinctive, but he didn't notice
when I pulled alongside him and rolled it down. Dressed like that, he's probably already lost
in his inner dialogue. I call out, "Walking to the bus stop?"
He looks over at me and grasps the real question surprisingly quickly. "Sure!" I quickly toss the maps
off the front passenger seat, and he climbs in. He tells me he's catching the bus because he works
downtown, and the parking situation down there isn't ideal. "Where do you work?" he asks.
"Science Park Road. The name's Art, by the way."
"Dave. Thanks for doing this." He offers his right hand to shake, but I
am busy making sure that
I give a jogger a wide berth.
It doesn't help that they're jogging halfway into my lane as it is.
"Sorry about that. The ride's no problem. I'd be taking the bus too if I worked downtown - wait, I wouldn't be, I'd be riding in
with my wife because she's a graduate student. They get parking spaces."
"Oh, what's she do?"
"Biochemistry." I could go into more detail, but it isn't worthwhile, especially since we're pulling up
to where I think he wants to get out. "The stop sign good?"
"Yeah, I get on right here." We finally manage to perform the handshaking ritual and he gets out.
I drive on, and part of my mind tells me that I've just done a good deed, that I've earned brownie points.
I've done other good things too.
Perhaps I've done lots of Right Things.
Suddenly, it was obvious. I'm a karma whore.