Your poem, on a bus
Calling all bus poets! Poetry on buses is back. This year's theme is "writing home." You can find submission guidelines here.
Bus cuts are coming
Thanks to the failure of our state legislature--and the subsequent failure of Prop 1 (aka, "plan B"), King County will lose 72 bus routes and see reduced service on over 100 more. There is a chance a plan will be cobbled together to save some service, but it will be even less ideal than the less-than-ideal plan that just failed.
- Summer of parks
- How to pass the time at a bus stop, part VII
- Car-free “vacation”: Yakima
- Multimodal Monday: Link, then lake
- Eastbound 3, 4:30 PM (or, Learning to love sardines)
- Eastbound 27 stop, Yesler & 3rd, noon
- On busing and bad language (or, the “s” word, according to Chicklet)
- Fully embracing the role
- Multimodal Monday: 180 miles
- Bus riders have sense
In the Bus Bag
Heartbeat of Struggle: The Revolutionary Life of Yuri Kochiyama, by Diane Fujino
Monthly Archives: September 2011
Fighting a losing battle with metastatic bone cancer, Joe Briscoe has one hope — a miraculous turn in his medical treatment.
But none of that matters, the 62-year-old Detroiter said, if he can’t get to his appointments at St. John Hospital on time because of increasingly tardy buses.
“I sometimes have to wait more than two hours,” Briscoe said during a downpour at his bus stop at Woodward and 7 Mile this week. “I’m missing appointments because the buses have gotten …
Back in May, Bus Nerd’s mama (aka my Gail) gave him a subscription to a Detroit city magazine for his birthday. (As you might already know, the man is rather partial to his hometown.) In last month’s issue, there was a profile of an artist who makes replicas of old-school Detroit bus scrolls.
On the old busses and streetcars passengers learned of the various stops by way of signs on destination boxes [which] contained a continuous, two-sided canvas scroll with an alphabetized list of street names. The destination boxes were manually operated by the drivers and …
The entire Bus Fam is walking home from the 27 after a lovely downtown shopping adventure*. On the way, we run into a young gentleman who, though possibly somewhat intoxicated, is perfectly friendly and polite.
After saying hello to all of us, he puts his fist out, at Chicklet level, and asks for a pound. Chicklet looks down at his hand, gives him her (in)famous side eye, and says, “My knuckles are hurting.”
The man shrugs off the slight and tries again, this time with an open hand. “How about a high five?” he asks.
Chicklet looks at his …