Riding the L.A. buses brought me happiness in more ways than one ("Through My Window," by Joe Honig, Essay, Oct. 23). The people I met during my commute were for the most part interesting and represented the diversity of our city. But there was one person who changed my life forever. She was a refusenik who had just been allowed to leave the Soviet Union in 1987. I was a former Soviet refugee.
One cold November night she entered the bus speaking Russian to her aunt, who was with her. I heard the language of my youth, looked into the young woman's beautiful, intelligent eyes and fell in love. I never expected to meet my future wife this way, but fate has a way. Riding L.A.'s buses is a terrific experience. You touch the soul of the city, and sometimes you find your destiny.
