Open houses
"Good afternoon, miss."
"Good afternoon, Mrs."
"Miss, I need to bring a situation to you."
"Tell me, what can I do for you?"
"It's this: I travel with this line on a weekly basis. I arrived this morning at six o'clock and bought a return ticket for the eleven o'clock bus. I come to classes at the Central University, today it happened that I left the classroom and left my backpack inside with all my personal belongings, including my documents and the ticket I bought in the morning. I wanted to ask you if it is possible for you to allow me to travel with the ticket I bought, even though I do not have the physical ticket in my hand. I trust you will understand my situation since my ticket must be registered in your system."
The girl I was talking to is the one in charge of receiving the tickets for boarding the buses leaving the terminal. She issues the order to accept the luggage and places a stamp on the ticket authorizing the driver and the driver's assistant to let you into the unit.
"I understand, let me ask my supervisor if it is possible we can help you." He said to me as he was communicating with his supervisors.
In my own logic I wasn't asking for something that seemed too out of the ordinary, or impossible, besides, since I commuted weekly I had a certain rapport with the people who worked at the terminal. In other words, I had been transiting through that space for two years, I was, I thought, a familiar presence.
I thought surely I could solve the little problem I had that week.
But it didn't. Once the girl stopped talking to her supervisor she told me that unfortunately I could not use the ticket I bought in the morning because I would have to physically show it since that ticket was assigned a seat on the bus and that order could not be violated. Since I did not have my ID with me, it was a risky situation for the company.
To me, the terminal administration's argument seemed logical and so I came up with the following proposal:
"Let's see, then it must be possible for me to buy a new ticket."
Behind me there was a queue of passengers arriving to pick up their boarding passes. The young lady attending to me took a deep breath and told me she would consult on that possibility. She dialed the administration office again and when she hung up she answered:
What you are proposing is not possible for two reasons. The first is that you do not have your identity card with you and the second is that the bus is completely full. All the seats are sold out. We cannot sell another ticket.
I could not get over my astonishment. To make the situation even clearer I insisted:
"Miss, can you check that the information I am going to give you is correct? I just want you to verify that I bought that ticket in the morning. I was assigned seat number 23, I'm in the window, on the right, in the sixth row."
I dictated my full name, my ID document number and provided her with the seat number. She opened the document where the passenger information was. I could tell she was trying to be nice to me. She corroborated the information, however she had her orders clear.
"No one is allowed to board without the tiket and their ID. In addition there is a waiting list of five people before you. I don't know how to help you anymore. "
I was faced with a bureaucratic dilemma that I did not know how to solve.
It is necessary to say that I was traveling weekly to the Central University of Venezuela because I was doing a postgraduate course. I always used the same bus line. They were comfortable units that allowed me to travel at night to be in my classes first thing in the morning and also allowed me to leave my classes, take the last bus and travel, during the early morning, to be very early in my city since I had to attend my classes as a teacher at my university.
In this postgraduate course there were students from different parts of the country, we were a big group. We were all doing the same procedure. We traveled two nights a week by bus to get our specialization.
All my personal belongings were left inside my backpack. I couldn't wash myself. I couldn't change my clothes, I couldn't decide to go to a hotel since I had no money, nor my cards. My fellow students had collected a sum of money for me with which they guaranteed that I would make it to the bus terminal and that I could buy a new ticket in any case. They never thought that the bureaucracy would prevent me from buying a ticket since I had no identity card.
The situation became untenable. The girl who was waiting in line kindly asked me to please wait until the last passengers were served so that, in case there were any passengers who did not arrive, she could consider selling me the ticket.
"I can't assure you, but I will do my best to get you on the bus tonight."
I understood that she was being kind. That I was at risk of being stranded in that terminal. Inside my bag was also my cell phone. I couldn't even call my family. I had just enough money to pay for the ticket. I was in a very compromising situation. I began to think about the absurdity of the situation. Without that ID card and without that ticket I was nobody. I could not assure my identity, I could not make use of any right over the ticket, nor over the empty seat that was waiting for me on the bus.
I remembered that I had a gold ring on my ring finger that I never took off. I was also wearing discreet gold earrings. I saw a small possibility opening up. I would have to find a way to convert those objects into money to pay for a cab and a hotel room. I had to hurry, in a short time the terminal would be left alone and, for sure, I would not be allowed to stay inside those facilities.
It was then when I heard my name.
"Graciela, what's wrong with you?"
I looked up and to my surprise and joy I saw a very familiar face. It was a friend. A lifelong friend, a friend who had grown up with me. We lived on the same street for our entire lives until we left our maternal homes to make our own families. It was enough to arrive on the street for the friendship to resume immediately with great joy and warmth. It was like that with all the young people on the street, we protected each other and loved each other like brothers and sisters.
I thought I was alone and isolated in that terminal, but when I saw Adolfo's presence I felt I was out of danger. I told him about the situation I was going through. The situation that I saw so terrible to Adolfo was very funny to him and he laughed every time I repeated my insistence to let me on the bus.
"I don't know what to do anymore." I told him.
"You're not going to do anything else. I'm here with my brother Eduardo and with Mrs. Rosa's son. We will travel on that bus. We already checked. Rest assured that bus is not leaving here without you." He replied.
After seeing them, I felt protected and accompanied. I knew that nothing bad could happen to me. I did not see or hear exactly what these three friends did or argued, or what strategies they used to get me on the bus. My seat, number 23 on the right side in the sixth row, was empty when I got on.
The next day I passed by my mother's house. I lack words to describe this street where each of the young people and children who had grown up together on it could enter each of the houses, always with open doors, and be welcomed as another son. I arrived at Mrs. Luisa's house. It was noon. There Adolfo was sitting at the table.
When he saw me he burst out laughing. I have always thought that friends laugh when they see each other just for the pleasure of seeing each other. Nothing else is necessary for laughter to break out.
In the contagion of his laughter I asked him:
"What did you say to the bus driver so I could get in?"
"Nothing." He said between guffaws. "I just told him that the bus wouldn't leave unless you were on it. Julio and Eduardo stood next to me repeating the same thing: This bus doesn't leave if Graciela is not inside." They had no choice but to look for you.
I have countless feelings of belonging. But none is as clear to me as my belonging to that street with open-door houses where I no longer live. That belonging was, in the circumstance I narrate, more powerful than my identity card.
Thanks for read!
What a lovely story, @gracielaacevedo. Those moments when one feels so alone, abandoned and helpless are so terrible. I have experienced many similar moments myself! The relief of seeing a familiar face, and having people stand by your side and advocate for you is one of the greatest gifts in this life.
Hahaha. Once upon a time, the same thing happened to me and I also had a friend to help me. Blessed are those friends that sometimes work like angels. I enjoyed your story and almost imagined her talking to the girl. Greetings and hugs
Wow i really love this story, and i resonate so much to it, there's is nothing like assistance in times of trouble especially situations like this out of ones control..you really did a great job at telling this story in this way @gracielaacevedo
A beautiful story of friendship, true friends appear at times and stages of life, with the firm purpose of helping. You were very lucky in that difficult situation.
Thanks for sharing.
Good day.