Your poem, on a bus
Calling all bus poets! Poetry on buses is back. This year's theme is "writing home." You can find submission guidelines here.
Bus cuts are coming
Thanks to the failure of our state legislature--and the subsequent failure of Prop 1 (aka, "plan B"), King County will lose 72 bus routes and see reduced service on over 100 more. There is a chance a plan will be cobbled together to save some service, but it will be even less ideal than the less-than-ideal plan that just failed.
- Multimodal Monday: Sounder to the fair
- Rebelling by bus
- Westbound 27 stop, Yesler & 3rd, 8:15 AM
- On families and fares
- Summer of parks
- How to pass the time at a bus stop, part VII
- Car-free “vacation”: Yakima
- Multimodal Monday: Link, then lake
- Eastbound 3, 4:30 PM (or, Learning to love sardines)
- Eastbound 27 stop, Yesler & 3rd, noon
In the Bus Bag
Children of the Days: A Calendar of Human History, by Eduardo Galeano
Tag Archives: what are you?
Moments after the kids and I step off the bus (on our way to the Water Taxi for a summer adventure), a 50-ish Latino man approaches and hands me a business card for his wife’s hair shop, which has recently opened somewhere nearby.
“My wife is black,” he explains, “so she’s specializes in black hair. Braids, barber services…” He stops to look at us more closely, then hesitates. “Also Middle Eastern hair. Erm. All kinds of hair.”
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, …
I’m sitting in the very front of the forward-facing rows, on the driver’s side, in the seat nearest the window. At a light somewhere in the ID, the man sitting in front of me (in the closest of the sideways-facing seats) strikes up a conversation. Three sentences in, he asks an odd variation on one of those questions:
“What nationality are you from?”
I know full well what he’s getting at, but I play along anyway. “I’m from here.”
“No, but what is your ethnic background?”
I cut to the chase this time–no need to prolong the interrogation. “I’m …