"What a Difference a Bus Makes"

     I am a lazy, no account artist, so my first appointment of the day is at noon. I regularly have sketches and designs to do for clients, so I am known to frequent the shop at all hours.
   Since taking the bus, I have marveled at many things seen therein, but I had wrongly assumed that all buses and bus rides were created equal. Not so. 
   A certain cat I know, takes the train to work and while there are a number of characters to be sure, I always perceived the train to be a step up. Bourgeois fare for the mass transit set. A level buses could only aspire to. But today I stepped into a whole new world.

     The nine o'clock bus is one I've missed in my travels. Ones before, crowded with commuters of all ilk, later ones practically empty, or scattered with weirdos and stragglers. Everyone on the early bus rushing into the city for the daily grind; worker bees preparing to wait on the city's masses. The latter ones serving to cart around the slackers as they trickled in. But this was the 9:10, a unique entity. The sweet spot in the schedule.
   This bus wasn't filled with losers or blue-collared cattle, no, no, this bus had style. I would hang out with the people on this bus. They weren't here because they had to be, they were here because they chose to be. Urbanite travelers on the lumbering blood cells of the city's arterial veins.
   They all knew each other and hugged their hellos, smartly dressed with beverages in tow.
   "What are you doing on my bus?" A rider asked of his estranged friend. They knew who belonged on this bus and who didn't. It was a well coutured crowd of movers and shakers that were carriaged into town at this time. Only after the help scurried in to prepare, did they make their way into the city. Suddenly, I felt like an interloper. I was the rabble on this bus. Arriving at my stop, bewildered and under-dressed, I exited, vowing to return and find my purchase in this newly discovered secret society.

    
   

Bus Times

     Saw a blind woman with an ill-mannered service dog on the bus today. That must be helpful, having to wrangle an unruly animal and not see. Little bit later, a homeless guy got on with his wheeled 'luggage' and asked the driver to deploy the wheelchair ramp so he could load his trailer with ease. After many whirring noises and about ten minutes, he finally boarded the bus, only to exit with the same fanfare at the next stop.

     Y'know, I don't begrudge folks the little niceties in life, but c'mon people, I've got stuff to do. And what's with the, 'I'm so gangster I take forever to cross the street' move? I guess I might finally be beginning to chaff from all the exposure to the unwashed masses, but it seems that some people are so starved for attention that they will do anything for it. Last week, 'Birthday Girl'- some of you might remember her- was talking loudly and obnoxiously to a stranger, as she likes to do, and when the bus driver stopped at a stop, screamed for her to open the back door. She wasn't the one exiting. I know people call out for the back door, but this is not what I'm talking about; She yelled it. No one really said anything. When she did it again at the very next stop though, the driver yelled back at her,
   "Lady, you scream like that again, and your gettin' off this bus!"
   "Yes Ma'am." 


     We live in a society people, let's try to get along with each other. It's common courtesy to not push every button in the elevator before you get off, or to 'release a chocolate ghost' in a crowded theater. I assume people know these things, but maybe not. I can't help hearing my grandfather voice his displeasure in my head when I witness this kind of stuff. Vulgar. Base in nature.
   Maybe I'm just getting older, but it occurred to me the other day, while I was watering my front lawn in black socks and my underwear, that folks these days ain't had no good schoolin' for cripes sake! Who raised these people anyway?!? Now, I shouldn't get my blood up, but I just get so angry thinking about it. Welp, it's time for my stories, so I have to go. Now, where did I put my glasses?




   Oh, here they are.

     

"Bike to Downtown"

     


     So, I rode home with a middle-aged biker on the bus. No, not that kind of biker, bicycle biker. His bike had a flat and he took forever to get it on the rack on the front of the bus, but he ended up sitting next to me, and I just had to ask him how far he rode everyday. Turns out, he lives a little farther from downtown than I do, and he turned me on to some sweet bike trail info. I could hardly wait for my bike riding adventure, and to document it on video.


     You're welcome.

"18"

"Ballard to Downtown"

"Lonely"

     My blog is so lonely, it has no friends. Weep weep, sob sob.


     Well, what the fuck are you waiting for?!? Join my fucken blog!

"Downtown to Ballard"