Boarding a bus in Istanbul during rush hour is an exercise in chaos and communal effort. The streets buzz with urgency, everyone rushing, never a neat line in sight—just a scramble of bodies jockeying for a spot through all three bus doors, albeit while others are still trying to exit—despite the rules stating we should enter at the front to scan our Istanbulkarts.
I hop through the back door, embracing the waft of body odor by means of mouth breathing while I forcefully wedge myself between strangers. I look for something to hold on to—I’m standing on a moving vehicle after all—but there’s nowhere to reach. My forearms being pressed up against both another stranger’s chest and mine, I try to situate accordingly as to not press too much in the wrong places. I assure myself the stenchy herd of bodies is so tightly packed in, a sudden slam on the brakes wouldn’t even be noticeable. A true claustrophobe’s nightmare.
And then, I witness the intricate ballet of honesty that unfolds each day. With the bus heaving forward, we start maneuvering our hands down to our pockets and purses to reach our transportation cards. I manage to lift my card, shoulder height, only elbowing or pressing against a few other people. I catch the eye of someone ahead, and with a muttered, “Bunu uzatır mısınız lütfen?“—or sometimes nothing, because really, everyone already knows the drill—the ritual begins.
The cards of passengers take off toward the front of the bus, one after another, sailing from hand to hand above our heads, disappearing into the crowd. Minutes after we’ve boarded, the familiar beep of scanned cards echoes through the bus. That must be ours. Or is it? Whose card is being scanned right now? We don’t know.
Minutes tick by—then, like boomerangs, the cards start their return journey. The precision astounds me. Despite the jostling, the sweat, and the sameness of these little plastic lifelines, each card finds its way back to the right pocket, the right hand. It baffles me.
This little act of passing cards not only gets the job done but also paints a picture of a culture that bends rules with purpose. Sure, we board through the wrong doors, but when it comes to paying our way, there’s a stubborn adherence to integrity. It’s not about strict adherence to every rule but choosing which ones to follow based on what feels just and right.
