Eastbound 14, 9 PM (or, second time’s the charm)

My brothers and I are returning from a cathartic evening of bonding at the Seahawks/Cowboys game. (Jeremy, ever in the mix, happens to know a Seagal. He also knew half the people sitting next to us in the crowd. But I digress.) The 14 is standing-room only–packed with Seahawk fans and regular riders–but oddly morose, given the outcome of the game.

Jeremy, to everyone else on the bus: “What about them Seeeeeeeeahawks?!”
At least half of the other riders: “Hawks, baby! Sea-HAWKS!”
A lone voice in the crowd: “Better not be no Cowboys on this bus.”

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