The month of October I commuted by bus between my home in Columbia and my work at an office on the Inner Harbor in Baltimore. I wish I had discovered it sooner.
The buses were nice commuter coaches, with reclining seats like on a plane or train, folding armrests, reading lights, and occasionally electrical outlets for each passenger.
The drivers were polite and courteous. The driver of the evening bus, George Harris, made a point of learning the passengers' names and greeting us by name as we boarded. Every evening, as we exited I-95 onto Route 175 into Columbia, he would get on the loudspeaker and regale us with jokes, supposedly from his children Taylor and Elijah.
In November my company is moving to Harbor Point, a new part of the city not served by my commuter line. I will miss George, who brought civility, warmth and cheer to the daily commute.
I gained some perspectives riding the bus, about Baltimore's architecture and people, and race.
Architecture
There are many grand, old buildings here intermingled with fine newer ones and lots of crap ones of all ages. I particularly like the old Gilded Age office towers, with their ornate decorations, gargoyles, and impressive craftsmanship. Buildings reflect the times they were built. Buildings from the early 1900s, like many in Baltimore, give testament to the availability of cheap "unskilled" labor, a booming confidence, and an appreciation of artistic expression. The modern, sleek glass buildings here pay tribute first and foremost to efficiency and are devoid of embellishments. To me they appear sterile and soulless, which if they do accurately reflect our society, is sad and worrisome.
There are many grand, old buildings here intermingled with fine newer ones and lots of crap ones of all ages. I particularly like the old Gilded Age office towers, with their ornate decorations, gargoyles, and impressive craftsmanship. Buildings reflect the times they were built. Buildings from the early 1900s, like many in Baltimore, give testament to the availability of cheap "unskilled" labor, a booming confidence, and an appreciation of artistic expression. The modern, sleek glass buildings here pay tribute first and foremost to efficiency and are devoid of embellishments. To me they appear sterile and soulless, which if they do accurately reflect our society, is sad and worrisome.
People
To no surprise, there are a lot of disenfranchised people in Baltimore. Riding the bus in the morning into the city, along Martin Luther King, Jr. Boulevard and Baltimore Street, and through the red-light district known as The Block, and in the evening a more roundabout route, out Fayette, then down St. Paul to Lombard, then out to Green, then Russell to I-95, people in shabby clothes hanging around -- around the University of Maryland Hospital, outside the ubiquitous 7-Elevens, waiting at the various bus stops. Some are panhandling, some are looking for food or cigarettes, some are clutching small children or trashbags filled with their possessions. Many of them look anxious, desperate, forsaken, beaten.
To no surprise, there are a lot of disenfranchised people in Baltimore. Riding the bus in the morning into the city, along Martin Luther King, Jr. Boulevard and Baltimore Street, and through the red-light district known as The Block, and in the evening a more roundabout route, out Fayette, then down St. Paul to Lombard, then out to Green, then Russell to I-95, people in shabby clothes hanging around -- around the University of Maryland Hospital, outside the ubiquitous 7-Elevens, waiting at the various bus stops. Some are panhandling, some are looking for food or cigarettes, some are clutching small children or trashbags filled with their possessions. Many of them look anxious, desperate, forsaken, beaten.
Race
The disenfranchised I see who ride a bus are overwhelmingly black. They do not ride my bus. I ride the white bus to the leafy suburbs. They ride the 20 to Security Square Mall or the 40 to Security Boulevard or, in some twisted irony, the 36 to Whispering Woods. There are few white people on these buses, whose seats do not recline and whose drivers do not greet the riders by name.
The disenfranchised I see who ride a bus are overwhelmingly black. They do not ride my bus. I ride the white bus to the leafy suburbs. They ride the 20 to Security Square Mall or the 40 to Security Boulevard or, in some twisted irony, the 36 to Whispering Woods. There are few white people on these buses, whose seats do not recline and whose drivers do not greet the riders by name.
Riding the bus, you see plainly the divide that still exists between races. It's an unfortunate truth that there will always be poverty and plenty. But when you see how the two ends of the spectrum are so dramatically over-represented by one respective race, it brings home how much work remains in achieving justice.
Here are some pictures, from the bus or my walk from the bus stop to my office.
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