The Inspire blog

Some life lessons come in classrooms. Mine came at a bus stop on a gray Tuesday night, delivered by a stranger in red Air Jordans.

I’d been in America for just a few months, and everything felt like a battle. The culture, the weather, oh, the weather…but nothing tested my patience quite like the bus system. That particular Tuesday night, I had been waiting for forty minutes. Two cancellations and it was just me with my heavy backpack and a growing resentment toward my new life.

If you’ve ever been an student relying on public transportation, you know the specific flavor of helplessness I’m talking about. You can’t drive, can’t afford Uber every day and of course cannot afford to be late. I was waiting and waiting, marinating in my frustration miserably. I hated that I couldn’t just leave. Hated that I had no control. Hated that this was my life now. (Yes, I was being dramatic. Sue me.)

I had my head down on my knees when I heard gentle footsteps approach. The first thing I saw were these impossibly clean red Air Force Jordans. He sat beside me and asked, politely, when the next bus was coming.

I checked my phone. “Twenty minutes,” I said. “If it actually shows up.”

We sat in silence for a moment. Then he asked, “You from around here?”

My accent always gives me away. “No, I just got here. Few months ago.” I kept my answer short. You know, stranger danger and all that.

“What brings you here?”

“School.”

“How you finding it?”

I paused. Something about his tone made me actually consider the question. “It’s… hard,” I admitted. “Everything’s different. I don’t really fit in yet.”

He nodded like he understood. “What are you studying?”

“Biology.”

His face changed, got brighter somehow. “So you’re gonna be a doctor?”

“Hopefully someday.”

“That’s beautiful, man. You know, I never had that chance. College was not even a possibility for me, I just couldn’t afford it, couldn’t access it. But look at you. You crossed oceans for this education. You’re sitting here with the opportunity to become a doctor, to save lives. Do you understand how precious that is? Make wise choices. Use it well. Some of us never even got to try.”

His words hit different, although many people had said the same thing. But how he said it was like my struggles were valid but my opportunities were bigger.

We kept talking. That’s when he mentioned so casually that he was homeless. Had nowhere to sleep that night. Would just wander around until morning.

I looked at his shoes again. Still spotless.

“Things will get better,” I said, not knowing what else to offer. “They have to.”

He smiled at that. “Yeah, they will.”

The bus finally came and we parted ways.

I sat on that bus thinking about what just happened. This man who would spend tonight looking for somewhere safe to sleep had just given me the gift of perspective. While I was caught up in the frustration of fitting in and late buses, he saw what I couldn’t: that my worst day was still someone else’s dream.

My faith carries me through tough times, but I also carry his words with me. When things get hard, I remember that night and see how far God has brought me from that frustrated kid at the bus stop.

Now that I have graduated (yes, I survived the MCAT, thanks for asking), looking back at how much I have achieved and where I am going, I am constantly reminded to be grateful and to look out for people.

The contrast is the beauty of life: not everything is what it seems. A man with spotless shoes but no home. A student with a home but feeling homeless. Both of us at a bus stop, both waiting, but for very different things. He taught me about making the most out of a terrible situation.

If you’re reading this, feeling stuck at your own metaphorical bus stop, I get it. Just remember: someone, somewhere, would give anything to have your struggles.

Thank you, stranger in the red Air Jordans. Thank you for reminding me that my worst day was someone else’s dream.

Some life lessons come in classrooms. Mine came at a bus stop on a gray Tuesday night, from a stranger whose shoes were cleaner than my perspective.

Shoutout to Nifemi for making me realize this story was worth sharing.