Fall asleep in New York. Wake up in Indiana.  Room to stretch my legs. New car-mates every 4o or 50 minutes. I’m taking an overnight train from Buffalo to South Bend. I’m here for an official unofficial alumni weekend for Project Fresh.

I get to the Amtrak station at about 8:30 in the morning. I start my trek from the station ( like many, a platform and a set of tracks next to a small parking lot. sometimes with a sitting area) to the bus stop. Half a mile of intermittent sidewalk later, I reach the sad corner bus stop. I shouldn’t have worn flip flops.  I’m about 5 minutes early. I reach into my bag to put on some carmex and my don’t-screw-with-me face. A few minutes go by and I see the bus approaching in the distance. For a second I lose face as I perk up a bit. I’m excited to put my student ID to use again. It’s been sitting latent in that forgotten pocket in my wallet along with old metro passes from cities I haven’t seen in months. But there are still 4 or 5 bus rides on that CTA card so when it falls out as I pluck my expired ND id from dormancy I slide it back into the pocket.

I love riding buses. Even though I don’t talk to anyone on the ride except for occasional “excuse me” and “can I connect to the 7 at the station” I feel like a part of a community when I ride the bus. A living breathing organism called a city. This is the reason I prefer the two transfers with a 15 minute wait at the station to the 8 minute cab ride. Also, the cab ride would cost infinitely more as my bus adventure is free. Don’t-screw-with-me doesn’t fit so well for the next 20 minutes so I slip into tired-but-friendly. I turn my my ring around so the fake gem is on my palm side and it looks like a modest wedding band. I’m too busy gazing slightly to my right to try to be too friendly.

I spend most of my time in any windowed vehicle peering out the window. I recognize and categorize different sights. East Race. Olympic time trials and winding shelters for homeless individuals. South Bend Chocolate co. Hallmark of a special night out and endless temptress to my curiosity of all things edible. CJ’s. Mecca to all the under-aged and under-dressed. St. Joseph’s river. The dividing line between a crime ravaged city and an unassuming town.

The bus pulls around to old familiar streets. I start seeing the signs for football parking. The fire hydrant painted to resemble a leprechaun. The Notre Dame brick letting me know which buildings have benefited from the colossal endowment. Coming into ND from downtown South Bend one notices the signs the city keeps on the roadsides. “South Bend, a 21st Century City” Aren’t they all by now? …by default.

The bus eases into Library Circle. I hear the familiar sounds from my years of modestly “commuting” off-campus for work. “Is this the bus to the mall?” “You want the 7 outbound.” “Oh.” Four or five people enter the bus as I step off of it. The Notre Dame wage workers in differing levels of contentedness with the day. A couple of people disembark with me. Subway. Reckers. Lafun. Como. For at least the next 5 to 8 hours Notre Dame will be cleaned and fed. Maybe one student steps up. “Are you sure you’re on the right bus?” “I’m going to the Robinson. Is this the inbound?” “Ok.” Another familiar exchange.

I walk to P-Dub to crash on my friend’s futon until I’m ready to forage in the dining hall. South Bend is behind me and I’m at Notre Dame now. And I feel that often unwelcome pang. Ouch. As I resign my love for this place and my discomfort with its growth. Ouch. As my guilt for being able to walk out of an aching city into a thriving campus sets in. Ouch! I quietly swallow my concern for south bend so I can plan what kind of tupperware to take into south dining hall.

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