Catching the 27

"Be anxious for nothing, but by prayer and supplication, let your requests be known to God." —Phil. 4:6

When I first started working for Apple Tree, then a franchise of the language institute ILS, our director had arranged for the hagwon bus to pick up the other two foreigners and myself in front of our apartment building each morning. Four weeks later, we teachers having moved closer to the main street of Jinan-dong, he still came to get us; only this time, it was just James and myself who awaited him, since Jack was now located much closer to school in Dongtan. Financial situations at the hagwon were changing fast, however, and by the start of summer, our faithful driver had been replaced by bus number 27.

It was impossible to miss, this 27: Its roof and sides were a deep, sunny yellow, the windshield a pair of unblinking, bright eyes. Its denomination rested at the top left corner in a solid red circle with green numbers outlined in white. The schedule was to the left of the denomination, looking like a wide, rectangular uni-brow, solid white with alternating blue and red vertical lettering. Displayed at the windshield's bottom left corner was a thin yellow strip separating this bus from all others. "E-mat-uh Hang," it read in distinctive Greek-like print. It was the only bus that ran from Byeongjeom Station to Dongtan's E-Mart. Lucky for me, it cut right through the center of Jinan-dong.

Since beginning to ride this bus regularly, I have noticed other buses impersonating the uniqueness of the 27. The 35-2, for example, identical but for its smaller stature and blue denomination, often disguises itself in the bleary distance of the busy main street. My heart nearly skips a beat each time I pace towards the crosswalk and watch as a numbered yellow bus streams past half a block in front of me. Most of the time I recognize it as an impostor, but on occasion I have lifted my eyes to note with horror the distinctive red-green numbers speeding just out of reach.

As I arrive at the intersection every morning, I anxiously turn my head up and down the lane, scanning passing vehicles for that shiny sunny-yellow. If I spy it approaching, I quickly exhale a breathless, plaintive prayer: "Lord, it says in Your Word to be anxious for nothing, but by prayer and supplication let your requests be made known to God. Father, STOP THAT BUS!" And then, with a deep breath, I start to run!

This morning I exited my house just minutes after my 10:30 ETD, silently worried that I might not catch the 10:40 bus to Dongtan on time. I checked my cell phone while passing the GS25, still more than two blocks from the main street and more than three from the bus stop. 10:40, read the time clock. I was late. I kept my eye on the traffic crossing the distance in front of me, reasoned that I might have to spend 15 minutes awaiting transportation, and continued onward.

I spied the tell-tell red circle while I was in the middle of the last block, just before reaching the main street. Meters from the intersection, I picked up my pace and sprinted across the striped pedestrian lane, the crosswalk signal hysterically blinking its warning. As I reached the other side and turned parallel to the street, I noticed the 27 lingered seconds longer than normal at my bus stop. Another lady was desperately run-walking to catch up with it—perhaps I still had a chance!

The woman reached the bus stop nanoseconds after the 27 had left it. Her stamina or willpower, or both, must not have thought the race worth the fight, for she gave up and turned in toward the three-sided structure to await another bus. I thought of joining her as I jogged toward the scene, then noticed up ahead that the 27 had slowed and almost stopped less than a block away. It was unusual behavior for any bus to stop if it weren't on their route--indeed most of them don't even stop for traffic signals! On another day, it might have kept driving to the light two more blocks further down.

My feet kept pounding the pavement as I ate away the distance, sweet victory within reach. Four inches shorter than I might have been on the sidewalk, I knocked on the closed yellow doors to petition the driver to let me in. Compassionately, generously, he agreed. And I breathed a long sigh of relief.