While I was in Israel this past summer, I met two girls who I became really close to. One of them, Roxy, goes to Brown University in Rhode Island, and the other Katie, goes to Ohio State. THE Ohio State. Recently, as in four days ago, Roxy and I went to Ohio to visit Katie, who is already back in school. Just for a little background, Ohio State is the largest school in the country, accommodating nearly sixty thousand students. Wow, just a tad bigger than I'm used to, considering my school has a whopping four thousand students.
Anyway, we all had a really good time together, but the most memorable part was definitely my bus ride back to the airport. My flight was at 9:15 Monday morning, and Katie had a class, so she wasn't able to drive me. We looked up the bus schedule on the internet, and figured out if I caught the number 2, and then transferred to the 92, I would make it to the airport in no more than thirty minutes. Perfect. I would catch the 7:30 bus, and hopefully, make it by 8:00 with plenty of time for screw-ups. Well, not plenty, but enough.
Early Monday morning, I got out of the twin bed I had been sharing with Roxy, gave her hug, and walked with Katie to the bus stop. As she waited with me on the bench, snow gently whirling around our blowing hair and visible breath, we reminisced over Israel and how incredibly amazing that trip had been.
"Hahahaha remember having to climb Masada at sunrise, and then literally passing out at the top from being so tired?"
"Oh my G-d yes! We like stayed up til two in the morning, and then woke up at four!"
"And then of course the camel ride. ARABIAN NIIIIGGGGGHHHHTTTSSS!!!!!!"
"Oh man!" said Katie. "This is like the only bus we have waited for together where we won't be able to sit next to each other!"
"That's sad. Aww and I won't be able to sleep on this one either!"
We hugged each other, and made a vow to meet up again in the summer.
I boarded the bus in my discombobulated style, with my huge suitcase, my backpack, my purse, and my $1.50 to give to the bus driver. I found a seat near the front, so I could have the bus driver tell me where to get off in order to catch the 92. As the bus trekked along High street, I gazed out the huge revealing windows, and every time I succeeded in fully immersing myself in a daydream, I would have to catch my suitcase with my feet as it kept rolling across the isle, attempting to maul the little old lady sitting opposite me.
"You goin' to the airport?"
I yanked my thoughts from memories of Israel.
"Yeah! Are you?" I said excitedly, hoping for a travel companion in this foreign city.
"No," said the girl. "But I've taken the bus there before." She had a blond bob haircut, and wore a red beret with an orange scarf. "You know you have like 45 minutes on this bus before you transfer, right?"
Hold on. according to the internet, I should only have like fifteen minutes on this bus, and it had already been at least ten.
"Really?" I said disbelievingly. I thought to myself she doesn't know what she's talking about. The internet wouldn't be wrong. Or...maybe Katie read it wrong? Oh jeez.
"Yep," said the girl. "And make sure to be really really careful when you transfer. It's like the worst part of Columbus. You will probably be the only white person around, so I'm just warning you. When I did it, I was pretty scared. It's like the most ghetto area. I mean, you should be okay, the druggies probably aren't out on a Monday morning...but....I don't know, just be really careful." She was going on and on about how dangerous it was for a girl in that neighborhood, especially a white girl. Crap, that made me a wee bit nervous. When she got off the bus her departing words were "Good luck".
Several stops later, I was still on the first bus. It was almost eight o'clock, and I should have been at the airport precisely four minutes ago.
"Excuse me sir," I said to the driver, "How much longer until James street?"
"Oh you have at least another twenty to thirty minutes" he said apathetically.
Crud muffin fudgsickle. This wasn't good.
As I stared out the window, trying to figure out what to do, I noticed that all of the nice restaurants and shops had turned into liquor stores and bored up buildings. The determined college students carrying backpacks were now replaced by homeless people carrying Santa Clause style trash bags full of recyclables.
By the time we reached the next stop, there were exactly four white people (excluding myself) left on the bus, all of whom got off, and were replaced by several black people. I though to myself Mikayla, come on. That shouldn't be a factor in making you afraid. Race shouldn't even matter. Oh but it did. I stood out. I was this white girl with a nice fur jacket, black boots, and a GIGANTIC suitcase. Plus I had a backpack, a purse, and a plane to catch.
Suddenly, I decided to make an executive decision to get off the bus at the next stop, no matter where it was, because at this rate, there was no way I was going to catch my flight by taking the bus. I had no idea where I was, but the more I thought about continuing on the bus, the less I liked the idea. I couldn't help but giggle silently as I pictured myself waiting at some bus stop in the middle of one of the poorest areas in Columbus with several bags, and not knowing where on earth I was. What a predicament.
As the bus putted to a halt, I grabbed all my stuff, and departed. Where the f*** am I? I dragged my suitcase to the nearest open liquor store, and went inside.
There was an Indian man working behind the counter. He gave me a warm smile as I entered.
"Hi." I said happily. I don't really know why, but for some bizarre reason, throughout this whole ordeal, I seemed to stay really positive, and the Indian man's smile infected me with even more "look on the bright sidenss".
"Hello. lksdfjHOWsdlfkjARElsdkfjYOUlskdfjTHISlskdfjMORNING?" He spoke with the thickest accent I had ever heard in my entire life! Somehow I was able to determine what he was saying, but he might as well been speaking spanish, that's how hard it was for me to understand him. Okay, I'm probably getting carried away...
Anyway, this man ended up making this whole bus trip worthwhile. He offered me free coffee, gave me a place to sit, and best of all, he kept me company, as I waited for the cab that I had called.
"Thank you so much for being so nice to me! I really appreciate it."
"Well, you know I am Indian, and I believe that you should always be nice to everybody and help anyone who needs helping. And you should not be on these streets alone! It is not very safe for a young woman."
"You know," I said. "I really like Indian people. Every single Indian person that I have met has always been really nice to me. I hope to go to India someday, maybe even this summer."
"Yes, we Indians believe that being nice is very important. India is a beautiful place."
As I sat in the chair, he bustled around making coffee for the both of us. I thought back to my junior year, when my family made the drive from Davis to Eureka. On the way, we stopped in Berkeley, just to take a quick tour of the campus. As we drove through town, we noticed an Indian bangle shop, and my mom and I really wanted to take a peek. It was a good hour before we left that store. The Indian owners were so kind and warm. They told me, having just met me, that if I ever ended up at Berkeley, they would be my second family; my home away from home. I will never forget the kindness and generosity they bestowed upon me, and these same qualities were clearly reflected in this liquor store owner.
As my cab pulled up outside, I pulled myself out of that store, away from this extraordinary caring and giving man. I was tempted to ask for his address, so I could keep in contact with him. That might have frieked him out though. But I mean, seriously, how many people do you meet like that? Probably a lot more than you think, actually. My taxi driver was the exact same way. Just as nice as the liquor store owner.

I love how this bad situation created such good memories.