Vote YES for buses today!
King County residents: If you value your bus system, vote YES on Proposition 1 by April 22nd. You can find more information here.
The ultimate ride read
The Rebellious Life of Mrs. Rosa Parks is one of the most thought-provoking books I have read in a long time. I hope you’ll read it, too.
In the Bus Bag
Unaccustomed Earth, by Jhumpa Lahiri
Tag Archives: community
This man, spotted on a Sunday afternoon 26, was folding origami swans from old newspapers and handing them out to his fellow passengers.
I wish I had a better picture; the swans were really cool. And no, I cannot explain why he was wearing a wool hat and flannel shirt on a crowded bus (with no AC!) in the middle of 90+ degree day. Perhaps I should ask Bus Nerd, a man who insists on wearing a jacket and bringing an umbrella everywhere, no matter the season, forecast, or current temperature. Little old …
For better: The 48, where everybody knows your name
On Friday, Chicklet and I traveled to the Eastside (48 + 545) to meet Bus Nerd for lunch. My parental leave is quickly dwindling, and we’re trying to get in all the family bonding time we can. I digress.
The 48 ride was one of those cool trips where it feels like you know everyone on the bus. We ran into my friend Paulette, whom I met several years ago (through Bus Nerd) on the 3. Actually, I originally met Paulette many years earlier, when I was still a child, …
On Saturday, like many of our fellow Washingtonians, Bus Nerd and I attended our first caucus. It was Chicklet’s first caucus, too, but of course, pretty much everything she does is a first for her. I digress.
The caucus was held at T.T. Minor elementary, so we took the 48 (also known as my ride to everywhere) down to Union and walked the rest of the way there. (Note that we could have taken the 2 up the hill, had we been inclined to wait–or disinclined to walk.) The place was packed–with 100 people showing up …
Tonight, on my 48 home from Montlake, there was a middle-aged man in the seat slightly behind me and to my right. He was on the phone with a loved one, telling the person in a strained voice not to worry, that he would make it home.
After he hung up, he began moaning softly, then loudly, and when I turned back to look at him, there were tears streaming down his face. He opened a can of something to drink (from my angle, I couldn’t see what it was) and continued to moan and cry.
The bus was …