As someone always on the move, buses have become my third place. Here’s why
I’ve relied on public transportation my whole life, and why it’s one of the few spaces where I can stop and reflect.
When I was in college, my school hosted a week full of welcome events for new students, a way to welcome or welcome us back, to campus. One of my favourite events was One Bus Away, which highlighted all the places you could visit that were one bus away from the campus — and there were many of them. Wallingford, Fremont, Green Lake, and more were all within reach with the tap of my transit card, and it became clear that the bus would be my vehicle for seeing the world.
Seattle has been home for me ever since, spanning the place I came back to between my roles as a writer and marketer in and out of tech. Ten years later, you can still find me planning bus routes for the week ahead, whether I’m bussing to work or happy hour for small business owners or a new BIPOC-owned restaurant. A lot of my brain space hinges on when the next bus is coming, and I use the time in transit to work on any projects I have for the week. Sometimes, I’ll challenge myself to edit an entire Q&A before I get off at my final stop, or I’ll read a book for an author I’m interviewing. At first, I was proud of myself for finding ways to be productive, but I realised it left me feeling exhausted.
During a conversation with my writing coach, she asked me about where I find space to rest. As someone who jams in tasks between meetings and uses my lunch breaks to make calls and run errands, I didn’t see much liminal space. But then it occurred to me: the bus. It was my gateway to seeing the world, whether I was headed to a museum, airport, or a workout class. I wondered if it could also be a place of reflection and solace.
I realised that the bus could become a 'third place', a term coined by sociologist Ray Oldenburg. This refers to places where we spend the most time outside of our homes and workplaces/schools. In an ideal world, a third place. It could be somewhere where I was forced just to sit and “be”. In my case, the bus could be where screens, to-do lists, and WiFi must wait, leaving me with my thoughts.
Over time, I learned to treat the bus as a place where I didn’t have to “produce” or “create” and could just listen and journal. My phone and notebook started filling up with reflections on whatever was on my mind. Sometimes, I’d list things I was grateful for like podcasts about modern romances and getting an alternative milk at no extra charge. I’d read books by authors of colour who inspire me and highlight some of my favourite sentences and concepts to inspire my own writing. These moments helped me focus on what I needed.
Embracing the bus as a third place enables me to use that time to listen, create, or do nothing at all. I’m still learning that rest is inherently productive and that I don’t have to fill every moment with a new project. What helps is knowing that creating space to think will make me creative and productive when I’m ready. Sometimes, the bus is a place where I come up with story ideas about how my wife and I created our own wedding traditions as a queer couple as well as tips for negotiating your salary. Other times, I’d just look out the window to notice new businesses or do some people-watching. It made me realize that a third place can be just about anywhere if you’re intentional about it.
A lot has changed since I started taking the bus everywhere. I don’t rely on the exact same bus routes and have had to invest in noise-cancelling headphones to protect my peace. But my love for the bus has never waned, even when I have to run after it because I know the next bus won’t be for another 15 minutes or the crystal clear bus logic that if I’m early, the bus will likely be late and if I’m late, that’s the one day the bus will arrive all time. Through it all, I’m grateful for all the places that buses have taken me and all the stories they have inspired.
