Northbound 4/48 stop @ 23rd & Yesler, 5 PM

A high-school age boy and girl, both carrying instruments (and presumably just leaving band/orchestra practice) are passing the time while waiting for the 48. They call a few friends who are also waiting for the 48 several stops north, then spend a few moments discussing whether they missed it or it’s really, really late. This apparently reminds the girl of a recent adventure.

Band Nerd Girl: “Last summer, when I was in Israel …”
Band Nerd Boy: “Dude, are you Jewish?”
BNG: “Yes.” [long pause, long sigh] “But just ’cause I went to Israel doesn’t make me Jewish.”
BNB: “Oh I know. But well, if you went to Israel and you’re still in high school, then that would probably mean … Well I guess maybe not with your parents …”

He continues to flail until the girl interrupts him.

BNG: “As I was saying, last summer, when I was in Israel …”

I could learn a thing or two from this young bus chick.

The conversation recovers, and they return to the safer territory of class work and mutual friends, until the boy becomes too distracted by his impatience for the bus to arrive. A 4 passes. An 8 (which can look promising to the untrained eye) turns right before it reaches us. An empty artic is headed “To Terminal.” Finally, a fourth bus approaches in the distance.

BNB: “This one better be the 48.”
BNG: “If it’s not, what are you going to do?”

Excellent question, my dear. Excellent question.

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