While I absolutely love the time I spend at ECDI, one of my favorite parts of the day is my afternoon commute home on the bus. At 4:24 every day I catch the #9 bus, a route that winds its way through the near-east side all the way to the center of downtown. Thanks to the 670 and 71 highways, many people drive past these areas of Columbus on their commute every day without ever realizing that they exist. If not for my utter lack of driving ability, I’d probably be one of those people. It may take me an extra 40 minutes to get home every day, but I’m grateful that my commute this summer has given me a chance to see parts of my hometown that are often only glimpsed from the freeway.

The #9 bus has a quiet dignity. Most passengers follow the unspoken rules of bus etiquette: Have exact change when you get on the bus. Don’t sit directly next to someone if another seat is available. Don’t stare. Don’t make small talk. Thank the bus driver when you exit. I don’t think these rules are meant to be unfriendly, but rather to respect each other’s rights to sit quietly after a long day’s work and not be bothered. Most of us look out the windows, watching the city skyline grow closer until we are eventually envelop by it. By this time the details of my route are familiar and comforting. There’s the men smoking outside of the Misty Blues Private Club. There’s the Milo-Grogan Community Center, where summer camp kids just as the day camp takes a recess on the playground. There’s the sprawling Fort Hayes education center with its eerily boarded up windows. Sometimes we pass other buses, their shadowy figures staring through tinted glass at shadowy figures of us. Finally, the bus joins the sea of traffic converging at High and Broad in the very heart of Columbus. I always feel a twinge of hesitation as I pull the yellow cord to signal the driver of my intended stop, knowing that when the doors open I will have to step out of my peaceful reflection and into bustling heat of downtown.