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I never really knew what to expect when moving back to Florida. It’s not an exotic place, especially if you look at its suburban areas and especially not by western standards. Like most American suburbs, Sunrise has no unique scenery. Its inhabitants weren’t unique either. Most were like me: working two jobs, pulling 75 hour work weeks, never finding the time to slow down and appreciate the world around us. Interestingly enough, my inspiration for appreciation and slowing down came from the most unexotic source on Earth. I checked my watch. It’s 9:00 on a Friday night. That means it’s finally time for a young sales associate to leave work. After walking through the damp parking lot, I waited for Bus 81 to rescue me from the terrors of sitting on the cold, wet, metal bench facing the busy roadway. I was soon greeted by two large swivel doors. I entered, swiped my bus pass and took a seat in the middle of the bus. I immediately began to take note of the other passengers: Two teens carried out a hushed conversations in the seat behind the driver, a man in a pink polo spoke wearily into his phone nearby and a homeless man was asleep in the back row. The bus interior matched the tired mood of its passengers. Dimly lit with four rows of blue plastic seats parted in two by the aisle, the bus silently continued through the night with streaks of light shining through the large, rectangular windows from passing cars and buildings. The bus stopped. Through the large swivel doors a middle-aged man makes his entrance and takes the seat right across from me. I took my attention from him and continued my observation of the bus’ grey interior. There was an advertisement for- “Hey, young son?” he called to me. I shifted my head to the left and acknowledged him in greeting. “I noticed you’re in your long-sleeved shirt and your dress pants. You a manager or something?” he enquired. “No, no. I just work at the mall.” “What you do, young son?” “I work in a department store. I sell watches and jewelry there. Nothing fancy.” We struck up a conversation. This man looked at me with his large dark brown eyes, squinting them animatedly when he spoke. His equally large nose was accentuated by a bushy mustache bordering his wide grin. He smiled generously with his yellow stained teeth. It took me a while to realize that I was fully enjoying the company of this gentleman, who somehow managed to make me involuntarily smile as wide as he does. After learning of my 70 hour work week, he gave me some advice: “Don’t kill yourself out for anybody who isn’t killing themself out for you. You’re young. Enjoy life. Whatever you do, give it some of the Ol’ Razzle Dazzle. Make sure it makes you happy.” After a little while he stopped the bus, stood up and then turned to me. “What’s your name, young son?” He shook my hand as I told him. “They call me Uncle. If you see me or need anything, just holler.” I watched him disappear through the doors. An exotic man in an unexotic neighborhood, proving to me that it’s the people that give places their character and not the scenery at all. I never saw Uncle again. But I took his advice and promised myself always to give everything in life the Ol’ Razzle Dazzle. I peeked outside the window and was shocked. I completely missed my stop.