This story starts at 5 a.m., though it easily could have begun much later. With a bus scheduled to leave at 9 a.m. from a station barely five minutes away from my hotel, a few more hours of sleep would’ve been the logical decision. Unfortunately, traveling makes me highly paranoid, so there I was, in a full-blown panic, rushing to make a bus that wouldn’t depart for another four hours.
There’s just one problem. The Megabus website was very clear—passengers are only allowed one large suitcase and one carry-on. Unfortunately, by the time I learned this crucial piece of information, I’d already hauled two giant duffel bags across the country, trying to reach Penn State for my freshman year of college. It was too late to do anything but arrive at the station with my two suitcases in tow, hoping the driver would somehow not notice.
Once I reached the front of the line to board the bus, I confidently gave the driver both bags, and he swung them into the luggage compartment without a word. I was in luck!
As I triumphantly marched onto the bus, glad to be free of that worry, I settled into my seat, ready for a nice long bus ride full of Slim Jims and dramatic daydreaming of what life might be like at Penn State. My daydreaming was interrupted, however, when the driver began talking over the loudspeaker.
Here’s the thing. I’ve heard dozens of these introductory bus speeches. It’s always a rather dull affair, the most memorable part of which warns about the perils of using the bus bathroom while driving over bumpy terrain. Other than the hilarious imagery of that possibility, I typically zone out the entire thing.
But this time was different. It was hands down the most thoughtful speech I had ever listened to. The driver introduced himself as Martin and gave us all the usual, run-of-the-mill logistics, yet delivered them in a way that was anything but mundane. He repeatedly emphasized respect, courtesy, and kindness toward fellow passengers, as if he were presenting an anti-bullying speech at a school assembly. He asked us to look around and keep track of everyone sitting nearby so no one would get left behind at the rest stop.
This was especially shocking because most drivers justifiably take the approach of “it’s your individual responsibility to make sure you don’t get left.” But Martin saw this trip as a communal experience and kept saying all of his policies were “for your safety and mine.” He did make sure to emphasize, however, that it was against Megabus policy for him to help us unload our luggage—we’d have to do that part ourselves. Undoubtedly, this speech went far beyond what he was obligated to do for his job and transformed the groggy bus environment into one that was warm and welcoming.
And then, right before signing off for the ride, he announced, “I do have one thing to add, and please know I truly don’t at all mean to disrespect anyone in any way, I really want to be courteous to all passengers, but just for future reference, only one suitcase is allowed on Megabuses. Normally it would come with a fee, which I won’t charge, but just please know only one bag is allowed—there’s only so much weight the bus can carry. But it is okay, we’ve got the luggage secured. And again, I don’t mean at all to disrespect anyone.”
I was astonished. Not only was he kind enough not to charge anyone, but he hadn’t embarrassed me at all when putting the luggage on the bus earlier, opting instead to simply load it without a word.
Three hours later, the bus stopped to refuel, giving us a 20-minute break. As soon as we were allowed off, I approached Martin, apologized for loading the extra luggage, and thanked him for his compassion. Reaching into my backpack, I pulled out a giant pretzel Reese’s bar and a giant M&M’s bag, both of which I’d bought from the gas station. I then asked him to choose whichever one he preferred as a thank you for his kindness.
Then, even though I knew he must hear these sentiments all the time, I proceeded to express my genuine appreciation for his thoughtful introductory speech, despite knowing my gratitude might not faze him. Instead, he lit up at my words with a smile more radiant than the sun, telling me no one had ever appreciated or acknowledged all the effort he put into his speeches.
Later, as we pulled into the Walmart parking lot, the overhead speaker crackled and out came this:
“Contrary to what I told you all earlier, I will be getting off the bus and helping everyone unload their luggage. You can all thank the person I met earlier today who showed me kindness and inspired me to do the same.”
The moral of this story is simple. We gladly inform others when they’re doing something wrong, but when they do something positive, we assume they must know they’re doing well, so we don’t bother to tell them. But people should be acknowledged often and without restraint, so that’s what I did. And Martin was so moved by this simple act of recognition that he paid it forward with his own act of kindness.
Yet, the implications of this lesson go even deeper. I believe one of the greatest endeavors any of us can embark on is discovering and putting into words exactly what makes our loved ones rare. Indeed, far more impactful than the words “I love you” is holding up a mirror to another person so they see everything you see in them—to give them the power to love themselves completely independent of you.
To feel genuinely seen and understood is perhaps the most meaningful part of the human experience. It’s a feeling that, whether through prose or paint, artists spanning millennia have spent their whole lives trying to capture. Yet the only tool that can truly capture this feeling is human connection.
So I invite you to embark on this journey, as I have, to discover and articulate exactly what makes your friends and family uniquely deserving of love. Believe me, it’s the ride of a lifetime.
