For days now I have engaged in online discussions with my classmates. In addition, I have been mulling this definition over and over in my head. We’ve been focusing on the last half of the definition...“usually involving conditions of coercion, radical inequality, and intractable conflict” (6).
For my blog today, I want to focus on the first half of the definition... “space in which peoples geographically and historically separated come into contact with each other and establish ongoing relations” (6).
I would like to share a story with you about how one set of travelers and travelees treated their contact zone in terms of copresence, interaction, and interlocking understandings (7). How two people were at one time geographically separated and because of their contact with each other, they established an ongoing relationship that began in the Phoenix Downtown Bus Station.
Apprehensively, I sat cross-legged on the uncomfortable plastic orange chairs in the downtown Phoenix Greyhound Bus Station contemplating the words I would use to break-up with my long time boyfriend of two years. Home for summer vacation, the June afternoon smelled of creosote and rain due to the monsoon season; my favorite smell and time of the year. Taking a break from rehearsing speeches and break-up scenarios in my head, I glanced around the room taking note of the pay TVs attached to the plastic chairs, the lockers - wondering if there were secret bags stashed with some covert spy note to be retrieved at a later date, the vending machines, the vagrant, despite the heat, wearing a sweat soiled coat and sleeping on the floor against the wall. And then, my eyes fell upon the young man across the room. His brown eyes met mine and I flashed him a smile which caused him to flush and glance down, embarrassed at being caught staring. Pretending not to notice his discomfort, I watched him readjust his Walkman.
Daydreaming, I found myself looking at him again...wondering...reflecting...
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My musings were interrupted by a call on the loudspeaker. The bus to Tucson would be loading at Door 8. Making sure I had my ticket and gathering my bags, I stole a glance at the young man across the way, but he didn’t look up at me as I walked across the linoleum floor to the door. There weren’t many people standing in line, so I knew I would be able to sit by myself and continue the various versions of my break-up speech. My heart thudded painfully as I knew I had to come up with something within a few hours.
Walking up onto the bus, I stepped carefully on the steps and peered down the long aisle contemplating where to sit. Out of years of Catholic habit, I selected the right side, the Joseph side. I hefted my bag above my head and placed it in the open overhead bin and then uncharacteristically I plunked myself down next to the window leaving myself vulnerable with the empty seat on the aisle. Settling in, I turned, lost in thought and looked out the window. Moments later, I heard a young man’s voice, THE young man, ask, “Do you mind if I sit with you?” Nervously twisting the opal earring in my right earlobe, I replied, “Sure!” and so began the bus ride that changed my life.
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Susan Bassnett wrote: “The essence of adventure lies in taking risks and exploring the unknown...” Come back and visit LastStopBusBlog next week as I continue the Downtown Bus Station story. I’ll explore how a chance, “everyday experience” (Murphy) in a Greyhound bus changed my worldview.