Watertown Yard bus depot is a bleak place any time, but especially on a Monday in January after a weekend of snow, sand, and salt. I had just parked when I saw my bus pull up; I made a run for it. As I reached the bus, though, I dropped my T pass in front of the bus’s back wheel and into a deep, dark puddle. I bent to pluck it up when the bus started to move. I heard a collective gasp from the people around me – and thought better of the idea. The bus left the yard, but it seemed my pass had vanished – sucked up into the undercarriage of the 502 express to Copley, I assumed. Then a young man stepped up beside me and, without saying a word, plunged his hand – right up to the wrist – into that dirty and freezing puddle. He came up empty. He tried again. Finally this kind young man, who spoke little English, did indeed snatch my T pass from the oily depths. He handed it to me with a sweet smile and then, as I thought my T pass had done, vanished.
Emily Soltanoff / Belmont
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