Have you ever stopped to think about how many outside influences you have on your life? Specifically, how many people do you interact with in one day? Some people will have higher numbers than others (as, I can imagine, a banker would have a higher number than me, a couch potato). How much of those people rub off on us with their contact? What do we take away from our everyday interactions that we carry with us for the rest of the day, or possibly longer?

I realize that this is sort of an abstract post, but it’s something I’ve been thinking about quite a bit over the past couple of weeks. I have been riding the bus lately, and, though I try my hardest to keep to myself and avoid making eye contact with the strangers and hobos alike, I’ve found that one comes into contact with quite a few people. When one gets into a routine like riding the bus everyday or going on a bi-weekly grocery excursion, you may run into many of the same people. You might see the same bus driver on your route on certain days, or the same passengers waiting in line for the bus at your stop.

When I took my car to work, I was shielded from such observations. Aside from the people I met at work and at home, I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to what was going on outside me and maybe a ten-foot radius around myself. But sometimes it can be truly fascinating to open your eyes and observe the flurries of activity around you when you think everything is quiet and normal.

A few instances lately:

• There is always a man waiting for the bus on certain days on the corner across from my apartment building. He is of average height and has a very distinctive walk. The reason why I remember him so vividly is because he walks back and forth in front of the shops, looking out at the road as if he was waiting for the bus, limping severely as he paces… but when the bus shows up, he rounds the corner and walks away. This is a ritual that happens often, I’ve found.
• When I transfer buses in the University District, the 30 to Sandpoint always rounds the corner near me while I wait for my 72. A kid with a blue knit snow cap, blue backpack and heavy blue coat runs off the bus toward Brooklyn Ave., then runs across the crosswalk northwards as if he’s late for something. He has a distinctive pace as he runs towards 45th street, seemingly late for something.

I often find myself making mental notes of these people and what they do, and expecting them in the course of my daily commute, like a bus passing a landmark or something. It’s interesting to think that they will likely never know me but they have become fixtures in my morning commute, things I notice while I listen to my music in my own obscurity.

Even more than these obscure acquaintances, what do we take away from the people that we deal with at work or school? A difficult customer may ‘ruin our day’ or cause us to lash out in anger at a loved one over a seemingly innocent provocation. Accordingly, an old lady at work or a friendly classmate may remark, “I like your hair today!” or “You have such a nice smile!” and it may cause us to be a little nicer or more gentle to everyone we ‘brush’ past in brief socialization that day. But do we ever ascribe those things in the long run? What sort of butterfly effect occurs here? The people we aren’t even acquaintances with, but still notice and recognize. How could they have changed our lives in minute ways we will never know?