As the bus stopped to pick up an old man, the driver asked, "Where are you going, sir?"
"Hilldale?"
"I don't go to Hilldale and I don't believe the 4 does either. Why don't you get on and I'll help you find the right bus."
The old man shuffles on, finds his bus pass in his pocket, slowly slides it through the machine, and finds a seat close to the front. The driver watched to make sure the man was seated before stepping on the accelerator.
I sat in my seat remembering that my next bus, the 71, passes by Hilldale. I see the driver reach for a Ride Guide and start looking for a route. The problem with anxiety disorder is that I can't just walk up and help in a situation that I can clearly able to help. What if the old man can't hear me? What if I'm stuck talking to him? What if while trying to tell him the bus number I say it too loud and everyone on the bus thinks I'm yelling at him?
I don't know the bus driver's name, but we've talked before. I feel comfortable enough approaching him. I walked past the old man and instead told the bus driver that the 71 which I'm going to be getting on after will pass by Hilldale. He thanks me. I again walk past the old man and take my seat. I do not make contact, eye or otherwise.
When the bus made my stop, I saw the bus driver start talking to someone else. He pointed at the old man and pointed at my bus. I then saw the instructed man walk over and help direct the older gentleman to his final bus ride.
In a long and round about way. I helped. That makes me happy.