The Mystery Man

I always picked this time. The bus is quiet. It beats the hassle of driving and parking. I can relax and read the Wall Street Journal and check the latest Bloomberg reports on my smart phone before I hit the office downtown. I have my spot on the bus. Always the same, third row, left side window seat.

 

As I board the bus I glance to my left and see someone in my seat. With only a few passengers on the 50 seat bus, how could this happen? A few thoughts run through my mind. I could politely ask him to move. No, that would be awkward. I could sit beside him on the aisle seat. No, that might be pretty strange with 45 or so empty seats all around us. Besides, it’s not my window seat. I could sit behind him and take my spot when he gets off. Yes, option three it is.

 

I can’t help but stare at Mystery Man. There is a bald spot forming at the center of his dome, surrounded by a carpet of grey. I’d guess he’s about 56 or so. His jacket is leather but a bit worn, suggesting better days in the recent past. I recall he had a brown paper bag on his lap as I walked by my spot. He clearly can’t afford to buy lunch. I bet he’s on the way to the unemployment office downtown. Perhaps he lost his job as a salesperson at the Men’s Wearhouse about a year ago. Stores are closing left and right. Not many jobs left in retail. Poor fella.

 

After a few stops, to exchange souls, the bus remained almost empty. Finally near the center of town, Mystery Man got up slowly and lumbered down the aisle with an obvious limp. He probably needs hip surgery but he can’t afford it since he lost his job and his insurance. The driver left the door open and a cold breeze flowed in and past me, preferring the rear seats I guess. I tightened my scarf and watched as he almost fell off the last step and climbed up the curb to the sidewalk.

 

With a sigh, I got up and moved forward to my spot. There on the seat sat the brown paper bag. I grabbed it and glanced out the window to see him fading quickly into the distance as the driver pulled away. Mystery Man appeared to be walking normally, actually at a brisk pace. That’s odd.

 

Let’s see. What are my options? I could just leave the bag on the adjacent seat. It’s probably just a baloney sandwich. I could bring it to the driver and let him dispose of it. Or I could take a look inside. I rationalize that I might be able to identify the owner as I peel away the folded top of the bag. I peer inside and see to my shock a stack of $100 bills several inches high. There’s also a note folded inside. I withdraw the note and read it slowly…

 

“I have watched you from the rear of the bus for the past few weeks as I sat in my spot. You always sit in the same seat. It appeared to me that you were sad and probably stuck in a dead end and dull corporate job. The only peace and quiet you get is on this bus. You can sit and dream about what you would rather do, but you chose to stay put for security and for the health insurance. Please accept this small contribution. I have decided to have some fun since I have more money than just about anybody on the planet. I ride bus routes and subway routes in many cities looking for needy people like you. Please take it and follow your dreams”… signed JB.

 

I sat motionless for a full minute. I put the note in the bag, refold the top of the bag and leave it on the seat as I get off at the next stop. Maybe it will be picked up by a little old lady living on a welfare check; she can now buy a new recliner and go on a vacation. Maybe it will be picked up by a community college student struggling to pay for his education; he may go on to medical school and work to find a cure for cancer. Maybe it will be picked up by the bus driver to help pay for his ailing wife’s operation. I smile as I contemplate that I am now Mystery Man. I walk away at a brisk pace.