Letter from a weary traveler.
Please read.
“Sometimes things happen that turn you around. Starting my journey home from a couple of weeks of sailing with friends on the west coast of British Columbia, I took a ferry from Powell River over to Comox, on Vancouver Island, where there is commercial air service. It had been a bit more than two weeks since I left Seattle to sail north.
I love this coast, the mountains, the Pacific Ocean, the cool summer weather, the smiling people, the relaxed pace. I’m home here. Yet, there are places I don’t know and the BC Ferries terminal at Little River is one of them. The terminal serves the community of Comox and is a few miles north of the town. I thought there would be a cab-stand to pick up stragglers like me and that it would be a simple matter to get a 15-minute ride to the hotel I’d booked near the airport. Not so, said the cabby who drove me to the ferry from the end-of-the-road Okeover Inlet Marina. My friends had delivered me there and kindly waited with me to see me safely on my way. So, if there was to be no cab-stand I set about arranging a ride from my phone as the ferry glided past Blubber Bay at the top of Texada Island. The first thing that came up in my internet search was a ride-sharing app called Coastal Rides and I thought it might be a good thing to try. I requested a ride, got a quote, put in my credit card info and quickly got a text with a description of the car and license number I would be looking for. “Easy”, I thought. Forty minutes later, I was part of the flood of foot passengers that rush off the ferry before the waiting cars and trucks can move. Now, I noticed a new text that said “We’re looking for your ride and sending in reinforcements!” Clever, folksy, but disappointing that the Silver Kia I had been told to look for was not coming. Bikes, motorcycles, cars and trucks all drained off the ferry and when the last truck rumbled off, I watched as the lines of vehicles waiting for the return sailing loaded onto the boat. The ferry pulled away from the terminal as I got my third folksy message about reinforcements.
A ferry terminal is a busy place until all of a sudden, it’s not. The cold wind off the water blew a few raindrops down my collar, so I took shelter in a lonely bus stop enclosure to contemplate my next steps. My phone battery was about to die and I knew I’d have to choose my next call carefully as it would probably be my last before a recharge.
After two weeks of marine toilets, boat showers and stretching a week’s worth of clothes over 3 seasons of weather, I was ready for a good, long, hot shower and to feel my last clean t-shirt against my skin. I was tired, grubby, hungry and feeling pretty sour about this godforsaken place that could dump a weary traveler in such desolate straits, without options.
Since I was sitting in a bus shelter, I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was, when a bus pulled up and opened the door. It was a lot more inviting than the cold, damp shelter I was in, so I climbed aboard and told the driver where I wanted to go. He said “Sure! I’ll get you to a Number One and he’ll take you right there. All for two bucks, have a seat.” There was a Chinese couple toward the back, but otherwise, the bus was empty. I heard the driver call on the radio asking about the “Number One bus” but missed the rest of his conversation as my rollaboard luggage did what it was supposed to do, rolling around the floor until I wrestled it up onto a seat. I began worrying about the two-dollar fare, as the smallest Canadian bill I had was a twenty. At the next stop, I stepped up and offered the driver a credit card. He said “Cash only… but if you don’t have it, it’s ok.” Wow, this isn’t Boston, I thought, as we pulled away and careened toward the airport. As we stopped at the little terminal building, I told the driver I could take one of the taxi’s I saw there. “Naw”, he said, “that’ll be an arm and a leg, stay with me and I’ll get you where you need to be.” Comox is a bigger place than I’d thought and we carried on along his route for some time. The Chinese couple got off and the driver said “have a nice evening Mr. and Mrs. Chin”. Soon we turned onto a wide boulevard and came to a stop. The driver said I could catch the Number One on the opposite side and that I should get off at the Buenavista stop. I thanked him and clambered out of the back door with my luggage. I now began worrying again about paying the fare on the next bus. Before I had put myself together to cross the street, my new friend got off his bus, handed me a transfer and pointed me at the shelter on the other side of the boulevard. “The Number One will be here in about 5 minutes” he said as he waved away the $20 I tried to offer him. Sure enough, the Number One pulled up in a couple of minutes. I climbed aboard and the driver said “I understand you’re going to the Port Augustus Hotel”. Wow again. “Yes sir, I am. And don’t you look festive, with all those flowers around your neck.” “Yep, I’m the flower man” he said. I continued the struggle with my rollaboard and a woman I’d guess was of the First Nations, reached up and lifted the seat beside me. “Here, stick your bag in there, it won’t roll around so much” she said. Then she yelled at the flower man driving the bus. “Hey JD, is that Kevin over there?”, “No, I think it’s Shawn today” he said. They bantered on a bit more and then JD said “have a great night Dave” to a young man who got off the bus. “See you tomorrow JD” the fellow said. As we accelerated away, an errant grape rolled loopily from the front of the bus to the back door where a young Chinese couple stopped it, giggling. Sue said, “Hey JD, there’s a grape rolling around back here!… whoops, there it goes back up to you!” JD said, “I wondered where that grape got to. I dropped it when I had my dinner.” “Well, now it’s stuck under the door, so you can have it later”. I noticed the Buenavista sign on the LCD panel above the door and said “JD, is this where I get off?” “Oh, yeah!” he said. “I got distracted by that grape! You just want to go about a half a block up there and you’ll see the hotel.” “Thank you so much!” I said, “I’m coming back here just so I can ride the bus with you again!” “Where are you from?” JD asked. “Boston Massachusetts” I said. “Well, here, take my card, and here’s a sticker for you! Have a great trip and I hope we’ll see you back here soon!”
I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face as I walked the few yards to the hotel lobby. My foul mood had disappeared and the whole place looked different to me. In a few short minutes I’d met a whole new group of friends, accepting, outgoing and happily enjoying their lot together.
When I finally got to my room, I delayed that longed-for shower and scanned the QR code on the card JD had given me. The site that appeared was supporting a local mental health initiative and JD was selling baseball caps with inspirational logos. I bought one, of course, and then clicked on a link that said “my story”.
Just 8 years ago, JD had lost everything. His marriage, his family, his business. He’d been the victim of an internet scam of some sort and to make matters worse, his trusted doctor of 15 years had been prescribing all kinds of anti-depressants and unnecessary medications. JD names the date he refilled all of his meds, took them home and swallowed them by the handful. He remembers a calm and tingling sensation, a light which he did not go toward, waking up instead in a hospital bed. Among the first pieces of news he got after regaining consciousness was that his trusted doctor had been removed from practice because of his prolific prescription pad.
After 15 months of recovery and rehab, JD dedicated himself to spreading joy to those around him, with complete acceptance and without judgement of the homeless, addicted, misguided or just grumpy, like me. Judging from the rolling community he’s built aboard the Number One bus in Comox BC, he has achieved his goal. The brightness that he, and his colleague, brought to this grubby, grumpy traveler changed my day, my trip and to an extent yet to be seen, my outlook on life.
The sticker he gave me? “Life is for Living!” Indeed.
Sincerely,
A weary TRAVELLER!
(feeling or showing tiredness, especially as a result of excessive exertion or lack of sleep)
P.S. please pass along my regards to your colleague that was part of my journey.”
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You’re welcome my friend.
Stay tuned!
JDTheFlowerman 
www.theflowerman.ca
P. S. – The Flowerman’scolleague is now aware of your message and is equally as touched by your words.
colleague is now aware of your message and is equally as touched by your words.
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