Whether you’re a kid sitting on a yellow school bus or an adult heading to work, it doesn’t take long before a daily commute feels automatic. You feel like a human tram with wheels following grooves that will bring you to exactly to the appropriate stopping point. And while the route may feel well-worn, each day there is always the potential for something new to happen. Uncertainty. Traffic. Fender benders. Road closures. All of the boring stuff that must be endured before you can alight and move to the next wicket of the day.
I spend a lot of time navigating the streets of Rome. It’s a capital city, but Rome is special because it “enjoys” subpar traffic enforcement. This combination, combined with the fact that modern Rome a Frankenstein’s monster of old and new, means that you really have to be patient. And also accepting of the fact that your vehicle will get banged up. I’ve lost count of how many cars I have seen with packing or duct tape applied to bumpers. Even before you arrive at your destination, it could very well be that the most interesting part of your day is spent in transit.
Last week I was on the city bus heading home. I try not to drive when it is not necessary, and as such I will opt to walk or use the ATAC bus network. The bus line that I frequently take has, on multiple occasions, struck parked cars while trying to snake through Rome. I know this because I have been aboard. When it happens, this has been because victim cars were either double parked or parked in a place that was not a real parking spot—likely at an intersection. On other occasions, our bus route will be completely blocked by a loading truck and passengers will choose to get off and walk after waiting for at least five minutes. The line you trace to get home may be well-worn, but it often doesn’t tell the tale of what happens along the way.
As I started to say, last week I was leaving work on the bus. It had just passed through one of Rome’s old walls and had turned onto a sort of divided motorway with sidewalks on either side. Sidewalks are quite handy in Rome—not really for pedestrians but more for the cars seeking temporary homes within a city known for lax parking enforcement. On this road, vehicles were now parked on both sides of the street, one side of their wheels up on the sidewalk and the other side in the street. Often this isn’t a problem, but the combination of an extra skinny street (think old timey Rome) coming off of a sharp turn meant that my bus had little room for error. Not even forward.
Unlike some other drivers who don’t care about scraping by illegally parked cars, our driver came to an abrupt stop. While may have been hesitant in using his bus as a battering ram, he wasted no time at all in making use of the horn. This is not only an acceptable practice in Rome, but it is also expected. In Italy if you hear someone laying on the horn, you know without looking up that someone is likely signaling to some mystery person that they need to come and remove their car so that the blocked-in person can leave. Rome is a noisy city.
As I sat on the bus, I could tell that this would not be an easy fix. This strip of crappily-parked cars were nowhere near offices or shops or a bar. Nobody would hear the bus driver’s summons anytime soon. And we were now stopped on a fairly major thoroughfare with traffic piling up behind us. Sitting in my seat, it almost felt like theater to me. With mild curiosity, I wondered what would happen next.
Rome is a rat’s nest of roads and careless parkers, but I also need to tell you that there is a lot of empathy and teamwork that comes with it. I say this because it was not long before a pedestrian traversing the opposite side of the divided motorway crossed over traffic and now stood in front of the bus. Wearing shades and a mask half hung around his face, without hesitation he assumed the duties of traffic assistant.
Shuffling back and forth in front of the bus, he sighted the distance between the sidewalk cars on the left and right side. Slowly, he coaxed the bus as we felt it inch through. The entire evolution took about two minutes, and before too much agony we had creeped through the bottleneck. The guy on the street, barely stood back as the bus moved passed him. He flashed the driver a “thumbs up” and then went on his way towards the old wall.
This past Monday morning I was on the same bus, but this time headed in the opposite direction. We happened to be right near where last week’s mess had occurred. Heading in this direction, I always know that traffic in this spot will always be a jostle. It’s not because of cars parking incorrectly (although this is always a wild card), but rather it’s a merging point for three lanes of cars that then have five different points of egress exactly after the merge. It sucks. I reflect on this suckiness every morning. On this morning, however, we were fortunate because the bus had already reached a place of primacy and would be able to easily roll out and make the hard left turn. A rarity in this particular spot.
In the moments before the light changed and the bus moved forward, out of the corner of my left eye I saw another bus stuck a bit farther back. Sitting two lanes over, I knew that he was trying to continue his route by crossing over the lanes in order to make a hard right. I know this because my commute is like the fingerprints in my fingers. I see this spectacle play out every day with varying degrees of success. Invariably, drivers on the far side looking to navigate the small access route to make the hard right turn never have fun. It’s one of those moments behind the wheel where you can only slowly inch and hope to avoid a slo-mo collision. As a passenger with nothing better to do, I looked at the other bus driver and then looked back to my own driver. From her vantage point, it did not appear that she had a clear view of the other bus, now more mired in Rome rush hour.
It is of course no big deal, these limited moments in circulation. In the grander scheme of traffic and congestion, everyone will eventually get to where they need to go…. it’s just that sometimes the execution won’t be as pretty. I expected as much this morning, and figured that my driver would take advantage of the clear shot out of this mess and get us on our way. But that didn’t happen.
I would likely call it solidarity with her fellow bus drivers in Rome, but my driver moved the bus just enough so that all lanes of traffic were blocked. In this way, she allowed for a momentary channel that enabled her fellow driver to sail across traffic uninhibited. And because Italians have excellent body language, I looked back to see what might happen next. The other bus was moving, but amazingly the driver was half-standing up in his seat in a way that was clearly addressing our driver. For a few seconds he held up both of his hands and made a heart shape with them as he passed in front of us and made the turn.
Rome is a nightmare to drive in, but there is also plenty of theater that comes with it. I am not sure if the entertainment actually makes up for all of the stress that I absorb each day, but there is something to it all. With the daily battle comes the unexpected doses of humanity, and this is something that I find so reassuring. I knew as soon as I’d seen that short bus driver exchange that it would be the best thing I’d see all day. The spontaneous heart that clearly screamed “THANK YOU” had me smiling through my mask. Sounds stupid, but to me these are the moments that often mean the most.
Life is laced with lawlessness despite all of our attempts at order and reliability. The welcome surprises of course are easier to digest—and I know it feels as though they are outweighed by all of the chaos. As for this past week, I’m trying to imprint these positive memories into my brain, which will hopefully leave a better of my commuting drudgery. And if I’m really looking to stretch myself, I will strive to follow their examples. When I’m out on the road, I might just have a brief chance to make a lousy situation a bit more palatable for the other humans out there.