In the Bus Bag
Writing My Wrongs: Life, Death, and Redemption in an American Prison, by Shaka Senghor
Tag Archives: 17
Chicklet: “I wish the bus would do certain things.”
Bus Chick: “What things?”
Chicklet: “Take us to Uncle Jeremy’s house right now.”
Northbound 17, 11:30 AM (en route)
Somewhere on Dexter, we get a great view of Busling’s favorite building out our window.
Busling, hollering: “Hello, Space Needle! Helloooo Space Needle!”
Eventually, another building blocks his view.
Busling: “I don’t want to say goodbye.”
I’ve neglected my bus glossary for a minute (OK, three years–last entry was May, 2008) and have really been meaning to return some focus to transit terminology. Fortunately, my Saturday 17 ride (home from celebrating my brother’s birthday) provided some much-needed inspiration.
The gentleman sitting directly behind me used one of my favorite transit terms, “bus legs,” in a conversation with his seat mate*. I wasn’t able to hear the context, given the general noise level on the bus (and the fact that I was trying to accommodate competing story requests from my tiny travel companions), but …
Tonight, my friend Coby is performing at Conor Byrne in Ballard. (He’s opening for Ali Marcus, who’s celebrating the release of her most recent CD.) Coby’s show starts at 8, and the first song in his set is going to be about–I’ll give you moment to take a guess–the bus!
Last night, I hopped on the 17 and headed to Ballard, a neighborhood I have visited more frequently in the past six months than in the previous six years. This time, it was to model a ball gown (seriously) at the Ballard Art Walk. (Modeling is not my strong suit–or, to be honest, my idea of a good time–but I have a friend in fashion school, and she had an assignment. But I digress.) Embarrassing pseudo-runway experiences aside, I’m developing quite a fondness for the place.
And what’s not to love? Though it’s not especially easy to get …