A celebration of writing and riding
On Monday, November 10th, 4Culture will host a launch party for Poetry on Buses 2014. There will be music and live readings by 36 local poets. See you there?
Hear My Bus a Comin'
On Monday, November 19th, at 11:10 AM there will be an unveiling of the bus shelter honoring Seattle's own Jimi Hendrix. The shelter is at 23rd & Massachusetts (in front of NAAM), which is roughly half a block west of Jimi Hendrix Park.
In the Bus Bag
My People Are Rising, by Aaron Dixon
Category Archives: reasons to ride
As I think I might have mentioned, we need a revolution in how we get around in this country, and we need it yesterday. Instead of doing something about it, our elected officials, including those who claim to understand the urgency, are doubling down on car infrastructure, ensuring that our children and grandchildren will continue to face limited, dangerous, unhealthy, and toxic transportation choices far into the future.
While we hold our collective breath waiting for the people in power to do the right thing (and also, because the air is polluted!), we ordinary, everyday folks have the ability …
As a veteran bus rider, I have had to deal with my share of unpleasant travel experiences. Like most sane people, I dislike bad bus rides. But—and I preface this comment by acknowledging that I have a rather unconventional world view—for me, it is often the “unpleasant” bus experiences that reinforce everything I love about the bus.
Case in point: Our Friday afternoon trip home from summer camp at Seattle Center. The kids and I decided that we could not endure one more stop-and-go, 45-minute ride on the 8 (the beautiful* thing about Seattle buses is …
There are few Metro press releases I look forward to more than the Operator of the Year announcement (OK, there are few Metro press releases I look forward to other than the Operator of the Year announcement. But still.) That is why I was surprised when, this afternoon, one of my coworkers casually mentioned the latest recipient as if he were old news. Folks, I am late (with this, as with everything these days), but in case you haven’t already heard…
This evening, as I walked through Little Saigon toward home, a sweet-faced kid tried to sell me an Amway lip gloss–with a lighted wand and built-in mirror–out of his backpack.
Drivers: What you got?
Yesterday, after tiring of the wait for my six-, then eight-, then ten-, then twelve-minute late 27, I resorted to the 4. I was immediately glad I did, despite the fact that the bus was (per usual) extra crowded, and I ended up standing in the no man’s land with poor pole access.
You see, Smooth Jazz was at the wheel.
Riding on Smooth Jazz’s bus always feels a bit like a celebrity sighting for me. (Not surprisingly, many of the people I consider “celebrities” are bus drivers.) As soon as we finished our excruciating creep up …
I realize I’m extra late, but since about a zillion people sent this link to me while I was on my blogging hiatus (see yesterday’s post), and since it is relevant to both my world view and my own experience, and since it shows that folks in Washington State (and apparently, Oregon, New York, and New Jersey) know what’s up, I am sharing anyway.
Might be time to take out those ear …
The bus is packed, per usual, so I make my way to the very back and squeeze into one of the sideways seats. After a few minutes of settling in, I break out my current ride read, Hotel Angeline.
The young man in the seat diagonal from mine, who has been holding court since before I boarded, asks, “Is that a good book?”
“It’s interesting,” I reply, and then explain that it was written by 36 different authors, on stage.
“So, what,” he counters, “It’s like the Bible of Broadway or something?”
OK, so …
I am not a fair weather bus chick. I love my city (rain, clouds, and late-spring chill included) and my carfree life no matter the season. I’d be lying, though, if I said that I didn’t prefer getting around during time of year when it’s light both early and late and there’s a high probability of sunshine.
During the months between May and October (aka, bus chick high season) life on the ground is lovely–far, far prefarable to life trapped inside an exhaust-spewing metal box stuck in baseball traffic. We walk more than we wait (truth be …