When I went to Simon Fraser University, I rode the 321 to King George Station, transferred at Columbia, got off at Production Way, and rode the bus up the mountain. It took about 80 minutes if I remember correctly. As a middle class university student who thought he was a socialist, I enjoyed taking public transit daily. I quietly thought I was better than people who didn’t like public transit. I wish I could say that sounds stupid to me now, but that little middle class university student is still inside me somewhere, and I don’t want to disappoint him.

Usually, I would bring a novel for the bus ride, as well as my discman and three CDs, one in the discman, and two in a CD case. All of those three CDs would be listened to all the way through, so this gave me a chance to really get to know the CDs I bought (half my pay cheques went to buying CDs, usually bought on whims, the only mistake was this Poison the Well album that I couldn’t get into for the life of me). It was a long commute perhaps, but I usually enjoyed it, minus the violence at Surrey Central (I’ll talk about a separate time) or just when I wasn’t feeling it.

One of my favourite memories was on the 321 coming home from school (or work, I worked at the Future Shop in Whalley at this point I believe) and a construction worker starting talking to me. My memory is horrible, so there may be some fiction filling in the facts (think the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park), but the meaning will at least be real.

I was taking a class called Anthropology of Biotechnology or something like that. In hindsight I’m convinced the professor hated me, but that’s besides the point. I was reading a book for his class about the history of eugenics laws around the world on the bus, and the construction worker who was sitting beside me started talking to me about it.

We talked about how eugenics policies weren’t only in Germany (and how people think they were), one of us mentioned sterilization laws in British Columbia, and then we got to talking about Huxley (I forgot which Huxley, but it ended up on Aldous anyways). I was probably trying to sound smart referencing Brave New World. When I did however, he said “Yeah, Brave New World is good, but do you knew where he really wrote his opinion on eugenics, and really fleshed out his ideas? In his book Island.”

There was probably a switch in me from arrogant university student to humbled little kid. I asked many questions about this book, and then the conversation changed from him wanting an intelligent conversation and me trying to sound smart, to me picking his head about many many topics (and debating for socialism along the way). He said he’s read practically every book in the Surrey Public Library, and found that when you read enough of books out there, you’ll find a similar message through them all. He then talked about Beatles’ songs, and about how they have so much meaning in them, and it doesn’t matter if it was on purpose or not, because the meaning was there, and obvious to see for anyone who’s read, listened and thought about enough stuff (note: I still haven’t been able to get into the Beatles).

As I grew a little more comfortable in the conservation, it became more equal, and it became an open conversation on what we were thought about life and everything else. At this point, a woman who was sitting on the bus in front of us turned around and said, “I’m getting off the bus right now, but I just wanted to let you guys know that this was a wonderful conversation to listen to, and it gave me a lot to think about. Thank-you very much for having it.”

I believe we replied that is was our pleasure. I hadn’t thought about that woman until I was going for a walk today around a dam near my house. I’d guess for some reason that she worked at Metrotown in a clothing store, and was probably in her early thirties. Of course I have no way of remembering that, but that’s what sticks in my head. I suppose we talked about things that she didn’t usually think about it. I suppose we talked about things that me at age 28 doesn’t usually think about (my head is caught up in the politics and economic situations of the world currently).

After all this happened, I remembered that I liked telling the story that the most intelligent man I’ve ever met was a construction worker on the 321. I think I also recommended Island to others as Huxley’s true vision for a dystopian future, despite having never read (it is on my bookshelf though).

Now all I do is look back on the memory with fondness. I was lucky enough to participate in a great conversation with a person who I’ll never see again. I’m not sure if I would be as engaging today. A similar thing happened with a homeless man in Tokyo (a story I’ll tell another time), but I was 21 then, and I’m 28 now. I’m writing here as a memorial. I have a bad memory, and while memories that are remembered every few years are kind of special and nice, this is one I want to put on the shelf for easy access whenever I want.

– written February 22, 2012