Dear Sketch Artist,

It's not everyday that I notice someone that keeps on looking up at me while I'm reading the newspaper on the bus (the finance section, in case you were curious since you couldn't see). But when I was flipping the page from finances to the health section, I noticed that you were looking right at me before you looked back down.

You had a coiled notebook and a black pen in your hands.

I'll admit that it rather creeped me out at first. I was too tired this morning to figure out what you were doing. And after maybe about three more minutes, you stopped your cycle of looking down and looking at me and started focusing on someone else on the bus. And you flipped the page over and I caught sight of this rather good sketch of me. Done on a moving bus. In pen. However, from what I could ese, I do believe that you may have put my ponytail just a little bit too high. But that's about it.

You moved onto the next person quite easily and did a quick sketch of them. When you yawned, you let your sketch book rest on your lap and I saw this great full-page sketch of the girl who was sitting across from me. You sketched out what you could see, and the way her eyes were intently staring at her cell phone.

So while it was a bit creepy (and they do teach people that staring is considered to be rude), it's some kind of awesome that you were doing sketches that quickly and that nicely. So I'll give you props for that.

Just... Try not to stare so intently next time. It's kind of creepy.

Sincerely,
Drawn

Dear Girl with Rose-Coloured Glasses,

I wasn't feeling particularly down or up today. But you came over and sat down next to me and asked me if I wanted to be your friend.

Now if I were to receive the exact same question from someone who looked like they were in their 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, 60s or if they were male and a teenager, I'd probably wrinkle my nose in disgust and attempt to be polite in my declination of their offer.

But since I recognized (and knew!) the woman who was with you (Your 'au pair', I think she said she was? Whatever.). And she said it was okay to talk to me. And you're like... 4-5 and cute as a button. So of course when you asked to be my friend, I said "yes".

Of course, this was a really awkward conversation in that you're kind of young and you're kind of silly at times. Like for instance when you were telling me about this really super icky and gross boy that you know from school/pre-school. Because all he ever does is pull on your hair and try to trip you and then you said the funniest thing.

"I'm not going to date him, you know, that boy? He thinks I'm going to, but I'm not. Because when you date someone, you're practically married, you know. And you have to let them hold your hand and you have to let them kiss you or else they won't let you use their credit card to go shopping with. And I don't want to get married to anyone until I'm at least ten."

Do you realize how difficult it was for me not to laugh at that? I suggested waiting until you were at least twenty and then you asked how many fingers that was. Oh boy.

And really? All you have to do is hold their hand and let them kiss you from time to time and you get to use their credit card? Really? And I bet you think unicorns come into your backyard at night and that elves make your Christmas presents still. You'll learn.

But you know what? It's okay. Because when you're ten, you're going to realize that no one your age is getting married (not in this country, anyways). When you get to middle school, dating is like a contact sport. You touch someone and you're suddenly dating and it lasts for like... a week. A month, tops. Wait until high school, then you'll see that it gets a little bit more intense.

But I have to say... I never considered being fully reliant on someone as a life's goal. And I hope that changes for you. And that you don't become a gold digger, because that's not really that attractive.

Sincerely,
Over 10, but not married

Dear Saturday Stranger,

I generally don't take public transit on weekends if I can avoid it. If I can avoid it, I'll get a ride from someone or I'll drive myself. Then again, getting home from the public library when I had no clue where my personal chauffeur was is kind of tricky. And I wasn't about to trek home in the rain so... I took the bus.

I'm sitting down and about to get off at my regular stop. The bus is about to pull to my stop so I get up and walk to the door and then suddenly there's someone tapping my shoulder. Which was you. I was about to tell you off since I'd just about had it up to here with guys and public transit and the propositioning for sexual favours just three feet away from the bus driver and everyone else on the bus.

And you're holding out a cell phone.

Correction: you're holding out my cell phone.

Guess it's a good thing that I didn't bite your head off for touching me, eh?

And thank you so much for getting my cell phone back to me before I got off the bus. It probably wouldn't have been a very good thing if you or anyone else kept it. Just saying...

Thank you again.

Sincerely,
Girl who is not quite surgically attached to her cell phone.

Dear Silent Boy,

It was a very long day today. Actually, scratch that: it's still a very long day. The last thing that I wanted on my last bus home was being stuck next to someone who was talking my ear off because they needed someone to listen or someone to tell them that they're right or someone to just agree with them on whatever the hell they were going on about. I've heard more than I've ever needed to hear while waiting for a bus or train or while on a bus or a train.

So I sat down on the bus, bag at my feet and my cell phone in my hands as I debated texting someone to lament about my day. I didn't, but it didn't mean that I wanted to hear about someone else's day.

But luckily, so very luckily for me, you came onto the bus. You looked a bit shy, you mumbled to the bus driver before dropping a handful of coins into the machine to get your fare. You took the ticket and then shuffled along until the first available seat. The one next to me.

I was fiddling with my mp3 player to change the song (and increase the volume) when you sat down. You put your bag neatly in front of you and folded your hands and stared straight ahead.

I must confess I'm not used to this type of behavior. Certainly not by someone who's around 14 or 15 (and before anyone calls on me for judging based on looks, he was carrying a Math 10 textbook). But you were perfectly silent, just staring straight ahead and the only words you spoke to me were "Pardon me" when you reached over my head to pull to alert the driver that you wanted to get off at the next stop.

So I'm just writing this to let you know that I greatly appreciated not having my ear talked off on such a very long day.

Sincerely,
Tired Girl

Dear Bus Driver,

This morning you pulled up behind the other bus and opened up your bus' doors. You basically caused chaos and those neat, single-filed lines to fall into disarray because no on was paying attention to who was where first. I didn't mind that too much - I wouldn't have gotten a seat on the bus otherwise. I broke from the line and ran (yes, ran - as in physical exercise, look what you made me do, Mister Bus Driver!).

You waited until everyone had gotten on before you pulled away from the curb (before the other bus too, tsk tsk) and continued on your merry way. You asked if people were having a good time, and those that were still awake did answer you. There was a general consensus that consist of "Ehhh" but what would you really expect when it wasn't even 8am yet?

At the first stop, when the bus was still overly full and there were a lot of people standing, you quipped something that I (at a pre-8am state) thought was quite funny. "Don't push and shove, folks! If you can't get to the door, just use a window. Remember to duck and roll!"

Now I'm sure you were joking, but you did happen to get one woman questioning you, who seemed to think that you were, in fact, serious. After all, she was asking you how to get the windows opened and she seemed quite insistent on following your orders of ducking and rolling.

But despite the odd person who took your joking seriously, you were a rather pleasant and cheerful bus driver and I must say I enjoyed this morning's ride significantly more than I normally do.

Thank you,
A transit user

P.S. I wonder if you or your fellow bus drivers keep blogs about the crazy patrons that you encounter on a day-to-day basis. If so, I would love to compare notes.

Dear Ghost Girl,

I was sitting in the train car first. Listening to music and minding my own business. I had my arms around my unfortunately heavy backpack and watched as the train rolled to stop at the next station to let people on. You walked in and sat down right across the aisle from me.

There was this moment when I just thought I recognized you. But something was different that made me hesitate to say your name out loud. Perhaps it was the sunglasses covering your face, perhaps it was the fact that you were keeping to yourself, as people tend to do on public transit. Perhaps it was because you looked more pale than usual, more white as a sheet, more ghost like. Or even perhaps it was because your hair was far too dark to be you. There were just so many things that were different that made me hesitate.

What if I say the wrong name? What if everyone looks at me like I'm crazy for randomly spouting off someone's name in the middle of the train car? What if you had earphones in and couldn't hear me speak?

But despite the sunglasses, your ghost-like appearance and the too-dark hair, I spoke your name out loud only to have you look up and go 'Hey!'.

So I guess in reality, this is not a letter to stranger. But sometimes, just sometimes, girls who are surrounded by perverts, morons and disgusting people on public transit are rescued by someone that she knows.

Sincerely,
Not-Mistaken