I drove some young ladies in the community van one night this week.
I remember the girl with the suitcase because she opened the back of the van to put her luggage in. Nothing wrong with that, but she was the first person who had done that after five weeks of driving. My first drop off was Blackfriars. The travelling girl was going to the train station and asked if she should get off at Blackfriars or at the ValuMart. ValuMart, I say, and then walk straight down Richmond Street. The conversation continues, she is going home to Oakville; lucky her, she’s finished exams early.
We carry on to the ValuMart, out comes the suitcase, have a safe trip and Merry Christmas. I carry on back to the Alumni Circle and pick up my next load of students.
The first girl in the van, squeals, SOMEBODY LEFT THEIR PURSE HERE!
All I can think is, it was inevitable. So many kids, so much chaos, so many things on their mind, it’s inevitable, amazing it didn’t happen before.
By this time there are four girls in the van. They hand me the purse and ask me what I am going to do. I say, hmm, drop it off at the Campus Police? NO!! they say, you should look inside and find the phone number and we can call her. I am not comfortable with this, I waffle. I’m SURE there will be a phone number in there, one of them says. I buckle and open the purse. I pull out the wallet saying, where will I find the phone number? On her driver’s license, one says. I say that I’m pretty sure your phone number is not on your driver’s license. I pull out the driver’s license ….. Oakville. OMG. I say, I know her, I just dropped her off, and she’s going to the train station to go home.
The girls all talk at once. We should go find her, we’ll call the train station, OMG. She’s LOST HER PURSE! How WILL SHE GET HOME?
OK, should we go and find her? YES, they say, all at once, HURRY.
Buckle up! Off we go down Richmond Street to the train station. One girl starts dialing and ends up on the phone with the train station, convincing them to page the purseless girl. We’ll look for her! The other girls say.
On the way to the station I get closer to the ValuMart. Should I pull in and make sure she’s not there? YES, they say. I pull in and they all start cheering, squealing and yelling, THERE SHE IS, YAY, OMG.
I pull up beside her, she’s been crying, I hand her the purse, she bursts into tears, and the girls cheer again. She thanks us, she hugs me through the window and then hops into a cab.
I look back at the girls in the van who are all sitting there smiling, and say, anyone getting out at the ValuMart?
Merry Christmas!
Editors Note
The following story was written by a Western staff member and volunteer driver for the Western Community Vans that picked up thousands of students, staff and faculty during the London Transit strike. The driver, recounting an experience about a week before Christmas, asked that her name not be used so as not to single out her contribution from those of dozens of other volunteers.