Any comments GREATLY appreciated:
As I started to sweat, I took my seat the first day and wondered how I'd endure the 45-minute ride without air-conditioning. I figured I'd stare out the window, admiring the passing Victorian houses while the people around me glued their eyes to their smartphones. I was on the streetcar. Not just any old form of public transit, the iconic St. Charles Avenue streetcar carries passengers along the historic, oak-lined streets of New Orleans. I had never had much experience on it, but I was about to become a regular on the streetcar, taking it five days a week to get from a summer class in the morning to my law-firm job on the other side of town.
So, there I sat all alone, fighting a losing battle against the heat and humidity of early summer. Soon enough, a man sat in the empty seat next to me. "Hello," I said and smiled politely. "Bonjour" was the reply. I was startled and intrigued. He went on to say, in decent English, that he was from Belgium and was vacationing here with his family. "Belgium..." I thought. I knew that it was north of France, and that the capital was Brussels and Belgian waffles are amazing, but I'd never met an actual Belgian person. Excited, I went on talking to my new Belgian friend until I had to get off and go to work. That day I realized that few locals ride the streetcar; it's almost full of tourists from across the globe.
The weeks continued, and before long, the streetcar ride became my favorite part of the day. Each time I climbed aboard, I found a new eclectic mix of people to pass the time with: whether it was a hipster or a businessman, a surfer or a war-veteran. 'Who will I meet today?' I'd wonder. One ride, I sat next to a Guatemalan woman and used my two years worth of Spanish classes to have simple conversations with her. Because I was going to Nicaragua for a service trip at the end of the summer, I did my best to hear firsthand about life in Central America. I remember how rewarding it felt to be able to communicate with her - to have a practical use for all those hours in the classroom. Of course, not all of my seatmates were quite so captivating. I heard more than I needed to know about a stranger's grandson's soccer team once or twice. Aside from those rare instances, the streetcar never disappointed.
When I think of my time on the streetcar, I am reminded that little things like getting to know a stranger can be fun and rewarding. I found the streetcar so meaningful because it was an active, engaging environment. To me, spending half an hour talking to a random British tourist is more valuable than memorizing my history teacher's monotone lecture on the Henrys and Margarets of the British aristocracy. I learn best and am happiest when exposed to people of diverse backgrounds with unique perspectives. In the future, I will look for opportunities to meet and learn from new people, just like I did in that sweaty streetcar in Uptown New Orleans.
As I started to sweat, I took my seat the first day and wondered how I'd endure the 45-minute ride without air-conditioning. I figured I'd stare out the window, admiring the passing Victorian houses while the people around me glued their eyes to their smartphones. I was on the streetcar. Not just any old form of public transit, the iconic St. Charles Avenue streetcar carries passengers along the historic, oak-lined streets of New Orleans. I had never had much experience on it, but I was about to become a regular on the streetcar, taking it five days a week to get from a summer class in the morning to my law-firm job on the other side of town.
So, there I sat all alone, fighting a losing battle against the heat and humidity of early summer. Soon enough, a man sat in the empty seat next to me. "Hello," I said and smiled politely. "Bonjour" was the reply. I was startled and intrigued. He went on to say, in decent English, that he was from Belgium and was vacationing here with his family. "Belgium..." I thought. I knew that it was north of France, and that the capital was Brussels and Belgian waffles are amazing, but I'd never met an actual Belgian person. Excited, I went on talking to my new Belgian friend until I had to get off and go to work. That day I realized that few locals ride the streetcar; it's almost full of tourists from across the globe.
The weeks continued, and before long, the streetcar ride became my favorite part of the day. Each time I climbed aboard, I found a new eclectic mix of people to pass the time with: whether it was a hipster or a businessman, a surfer or a war-veteran. 'Who will I meet today?' I'd wonder. One ride, I sat next to a Guatemalan woman and used my two years worth of Spanish classes to have simple conversations with her. Because I was going to Nicaragua for a service trip at the end of the summer, I did my best to hear firsthand about life in Central America. I remember how rewarding it felt to be able to communicate with her - to have a practical use for all those hours in the classroom. Of course, not all of my seatmates were quite so captivating. I heard more than I needed to know about a stranger's grandson's soccer team once or twice. Aside from those rare instances, the streetcar never disappointed.
When I think of my time on the streetcar, I am reminded that little things like getting to know a stranger can be fun and rewarding. I found the streetcar so meaningful because it was an active, engaging environment. To me, spending half an hour talking to a random British tourist is more valuable than memorizing my history teacher's monotone lecture on the Henrys and Margarets of the British aristocracy. I learn best and am happiest when exposed to people of diverse backgrounds with unique perspectives. In the future, I will look for opportunities to meet and learn from new people, just like I did in that sweaty streetcar in Uptown New Orleans.
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