I’ve ridden public transport all my life. 23 years. Some of the STA bus drivers knew me when I was just a wee little tot. While they watched me grow, I’ve watched STA grow, then shrink, then grow again.

I’ve seen my share of amazing things.

Over all the potholes and through all the puddles, there are a few stories that I’ll never forget.

On a rather normal ride up to Northtown Mall, we sat quietly just staring at the buildings whiz by. “The body is at Mike’s, right,” questioned a man talking on his cellphone.

At that very instant, I looked at my friend who looked at me and then a stranger looked over her shoulder back at us:

“Did he just say what I thought he said?”

My friend pulled out his phone and searched the local news sites to see if there were any unsolved cases that day. Just so happened there was one, and we spent a few hours swearing up a storm until they caught the killer.

It’s not only what people say, it’s what they do.

One bad winter in 2003 meant one other passenger and I were trapped on a snowy and icy road for two hours. Our bus driver couldn’t do much. “Either get off and walk or stay with me.”

I would have gotten off, but the other passenger, a middle-schooler (as was I), started playing their music loudly. I liked the song, so we danced to the music and we sang the lyrics. We had a party bus, in the snow. And at the end of it all, our bus driver gave us both notes so we had excused absences from the classes we missed. I made a friend that day, and I was so grateful for my driver.

Of course, there’s plenty of generosity on the busses in Spokane.

There was a woman who was incredibly flustered. Her hair was frazzled, even her wool sweater looked as stressed as she was. She pulled her children on to the bus only to find she didn’t have her bus pass or any spendable money.

Unfortunately, the bus driver was unsympathetic (Yes, they do exist). So five people scrambled up all the change they had and paid her way. The delightment, the fact that her cheeks immediately lit up with life, was beautiful to see.

But with beauty comes tragedy.

My main bus route is the medical shuttle. Right there is a precursor to some uncomfortable things that happen. People are on their way to the emergency room all the time on that bus, all while I’m just trying to go home and eat dinner.

One time, around Christmas, I got on the bus and happily watched the snow fall. It was dusk, and all the lights were starting to come on. I was the only passenger, and when another person got on, it sparked my attention.

“No sweetie. I’m sorry. I can’t hold you.” His voice was shaky. He seemed weak. His daughter was at his feet in her stroller tightly buckled in for safety, but she struggled to get into his lap.

What kind of nonsense was I going to be in for tonight, I thought. I mean, I truly hated children. The sight of them anger me.

He made a phone call. “Hey. I’m on the way to the emergency room. I keep having seizures and I don’t know what’s wrong.”

That’s why he couldn’t hold his daughter. If he started seizing, he could hurt her. Even while he was suffering, she was his first priority.

It shook me up. It still shakes me up. While I was crying at this story unfolding behind me, while the bus driver drove as fast as he legally could, the man kept telling his struggling daughter that he loved her. He was going to be able to hold her real soon.

I hope they’re doing well.

I originally set out to write a column about the crazy things people do. But when I started writing, I couldn’t help but think about people’s stories I’ve seen. Just by riding the bus, I see glimpses of other people’s lives and their morals and values.

I’ve lived my entire life on this bus system, and I just now realized that here is a city contained within itself. Each person brings their baggage onto 35-foot-long metal carriages, and we’re all affected by it. Take it in. Enjoy the ride.