The Kindness of Bajans Part II

In 2012, I observed a rather heartwarming incident on the Connelltown bus ride up to River Bay. Towards the end of the route, the bus wends its way through a complicated warren of residential streets that makes me thankful we are not the car-renting type.

This is about as far from the glitzy, touristy Barbados as you can get. Apart from the Animal Flower Cave, there isn't much that draws tourists as far north as this (I don't know why, as the coast is spectacular). I love to look at the houses and gardens—none are opulent, and a few are in lamentable condition, but even the most shaky-looking chattel house will have something to admire about it, whether it is a bougainvillea in full bloom, spilling over a wall made of cinder blocks, or a poinsettia six feet tall.

While rumbling through one of these neighbourhoods, the bus suddenly drew to a stop alongside a house. A lady (still in her Sunday best) ran down the garden path, frantically waving and smiling. Without a word, the bus driver handed her through his side window a handbag, which she had obviously left behind on the bus earlier that day. Then, with a wave, he drove off, while she walked back to her house beaming and clutching her bag.

I've tried, but I can't quite picture this happening on Toronto transit.