In the Bus Bag
Writing My Wrongs: Life, Death, and Redemption in an American Prison, by Shaka Senghor
Tag Archives: 14
High-school girl 1: “It’s a dinner. I’m getting in free or I wouldn’t be going. They called and asked if I wanted fish or chicken.”
HSG 2: “Fish!”
HSG 1: “Please! You don’t know what the fish looks like. You can’t just say ‘fish’ over the phone like that. Chick-en.”
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.”
I can take any one of three buses home from downtown–in order of preference, the 27, the 4, or the 14. The 27 is hands down my favorite of the three because it’s fast and takes me directly to my house. If the 27 isn’t coming anytime soon, I fall back on the 4, which, though significantly slower and less pleasant than the 27, also takes me directly to my house. The 14 is slow and requires a walk, so I take it only when neither of the other two buses is coming soon.
Tonight, I found myself at …