oh, buses.

so. it was 4:35 and i was waiting for the bus down on sketchville 3rd and pike. to tell you the truth, i hate waiting at this stop. i find myself daily, dodging eye contact with those boozy men in tattered leather jackets and trying not to get my robot tote bag dirty when the messy-haired coke addicts obliviously storm past me. avoiding this repeated scene is my daily battle, so i jumped at the chance to catch bus 11 when it rolled up. to my surprise, the bus was stuffy-crowded and i was forced in the back. it's fall now, and in seattle that means 50s and damp. oh, seattle. at least i could breathe. so, i was on this bus, slightly irritated that this woman had her monstrous duffel bag resting on my side. then i started to think about the movie i watched the night before--match point--and tried to detect if i could feel any sharp objects in her bag (oh, you know, such as a rifle). after deciding my side was likely safe of any sudden shots to the appendix, the bus came to a halt and i was freed from my paranoia, quickly taking the nearest open seat. just as i began to relax and thank the rifle for not firing, i looked around and realized i was accompanied by a much different crowd on this bus. uhh, what is this bus 11, anyway? shit-shit-shit. we stopped at a red light and my stomach was doing somersaults. i began to worry we would take a dramatic turn and enter the freeway express lanes--you know, where people like me go to die. damnit. leaving work early just became counterproductive. one.two.three.four.five. i stopped holding my breath when i realized the mystery bus was still headed toward the hill, away from fast speeds and concrete evil.