Oh my!
It has been far too long since we have updated this little bus hopping blog. So much has happened since our last post, but not many adventures on the bus.
That's what happens when you have newfound access to a car—it really takes the fun out of everything.
Don't worry...we had quite the bus hopping adventure this past Saturday on a journey to Golden Gate Park for the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival. It was only necessary to take one bus to the mystical musical forest, but oh it was a time.
We nearly ended up on the most crowded bus I'd ever witnessed as a bus hopper, but luckily we were able to wait for another 5 bus that would take us across the urban jungle to the forest by the sea.
We were able to find some seats near the front of the bus, but little did we know that everyone was out to go listen to some bluegrass (or just Conor Oberst and some people watching).
As we arrived at each stop the bus became more crowded and it was hard to tell who wasn't in fact going to the festival. There were enough river sandals with socks and hemp to make any member of People's Park satisfied.
Unfortunately, not everyone on the bus was in the best mood and many people had not bus hopped before. The bus driver decided to stop for 10 minutes because a "tourist" was blocking the back door. This minute incident prompted a Sarah Palin-esque 20-something to yell at the tourist in a Jersey Shore manner—quelle horreur! She was definitely on a power trip, but she was no JWoww.
After a long 45 minute ride, we arrived (as we were simply following all the 60-year old men with banjos) and had never been more excited to get off the bus.
The rest of the day was filled with gimlets, cats on backs, cults, celebrity sightings, and a reunion with a long lost friend.
The magic of the day did not subside as I was able to get on the bus back for free. Maybe I got some luck from all that bluegrass love or maybe there was just something in the air.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Yolanda and a Retrospective Look at the Gender Game
For those of you who are as intimately familiar with the AC Transit system as this author (which I expect few of you are, but kudos if I'm wrong; we might have a job for you here at Bus Hoppers), you may be aware that currently we in the fan community are experiencing "service affected by labor unrest." Oh my. Well, no surprise really- apologies abound, but c'mon Oaktown, how predictable can you get?
So I thought I would brighten these dark, dark days with a staycation down memory lane, of course remembering our first and favorite trip on the 1.
Some might call this the godfather of all bus hopper adventures, and the first time we heard this vocation calling our names. From this point forward, movies lost their draw (I mean, why would I pay $13 to watch uncomfortable love unfold in 3-D *cough Avatar cough* when I could pay $0.00 to watch it shake up at a spectacular pace on the Northbound 1R? Oh, but that's an entirely different tale...)
This adventure could have a host of other titles, such as "How we survived the battle of the dueling wheelchairs" or "what kind of vegetable looks gray and smells like garbage?" or perhaps, "The bus ride that answers the question,'Huh?'", but for the time being, let's stick with what we have.
We embarked on that particular dusky evening, brains a little fuzzy from a previous adventure. This was our first cooperative venture on the 1, so of course we were a little giddy. We sat in the 'tea-cup' seats and strapped in for the ride. Our spins were short-lived however, as a wheelchair-bound passenger boarded; we respectfully headed toward the [boring] seats in the back, taking more of an observational than participatory role in the events of that night. Thank god.
Minutes later a second, seemingly wheelchair-bound passenger boarded. This man was, however, very different. You're familiar with Lil'Wayne, no? and giants also? This was two of those in one person. Whoa. (yes, I did just google "lil'wayne as a giant in a wheelchair" to see if I could add a photo clip. No dice. weird). Blingin' hard, chalice in hand, this young gent was full-on abusing the AC Transit ramp system. He had one of those wheelchairs where you just use your finger to move the whole chair. Total pimp status. Basically, two thirds of the bus was taken up by wheel-chairs, space was limited. We all had to get a little closer...you know what that means...
After the novelty of the gangsta-chair had worn off, we searched for other one-act bus plays that were happening. On the other side of us was Yolanda (names have [not actually] been changed to protect the privacy of this individual. In fact, this is the ONLY clue we have as to his/her gender. It's really still up in the air). Yolanda was enjoying a late dinner on the bus. By dinner, I mean some sort of gray-green substance that smelled just like it looked- perhaps cooked vomit filled with gray peas? Yolanda, however, seemed quite pleased with her little dinn dinn and attempted to share/trade it with EVERY passenger on the bus. Two college students obliged by trading her some other snack items for her delectables, after that, Yolanda et al. were friends for lyfe.
Our bus adventures thus ended, but the memories of that dueling-wheelchair-gray-green-vomit-fried-garbage-food have FOREVER been burned into my senses. I want to thank the entire cast of characters on board that day for inspiring what has thus followed, and inspiring me to always work the system, shit, that's how we get it done.
So I thought I would brighten these dark, dark days with a staycation down memory lane, of course remembering our first and favorite trip on the 1.
Some might call this the godfather of all bus hopper adventures, and the first time we heard this vocation calling our names. From this point forward, movies lost their draw (I mean, why would I pay $13 to watch uncomfortable love unfold in 3-D *cough Avatar cough* when I could pay $0.00 to watch it shake up at a spectacular pace on the Northbound 1R? Oh, but that's an entirely different tale...)
This adventure could have a host of other titles, such as "How we survived the battle of the dueling wheelchairs" or "what kind of vegetable looks gray and smells like garbage?" or perhaps, "The bus ride that answers the question,'Huh?'", but for the time being, let's stick with what we have.
We embarked on that particular dusky evening, brains a little fuzzy from a previous adventure. This was our first cooperative venture on the 1, so of course we were a little giddy. We sat in the 'tea-cup' seats and strapped in for the ride. Our spins were short-lived however, as a wheelchair-bound passenger boarded; we respectfully headed toward the [boring] seats in the back, taking more of an observational than participatory role in the events of that night. Thank god.
Minutes later a second, seemingly wheelchair-bound passenger boarded. This man was, however, very different. You're familiar with Lil'Wayne, no? and giants also? This was two of those in one person. Whoa. (yes, I did just google "lil'wayne as a giant in a wheelchair" to see if I could add a photo clip. No dice. weird). Blingin' hard, chalice in hand, this young gent was full-on abusing the AC Transit ramp system. He had one of those wheelchairs where you just use your finger to move the whole chair. Total pimp status. Basically, two thirds of the bus was taken up by wheel-chairs, space was limited. We all had to get a little closer...you know what that means...
After the novelty of the gangsta-chair had worn off, we searched for other one-act bus plays that were happening. On the other side of us was Yolanda (names have [not actually] been changed to protect the privacy of this individual. In fact, this is the ONLY clue we have as to his/her gender. It's really still up in the air). Yolanda was enjoying a late dinner on the bus. By dinner, I mean some sort of gray-green substance that smelled just like it looked- perhaps cooked vomit filled with gray peas? Yolanda, however, seemed quite pleased with her little dinn dinn and attempted to share/trade it with EVERY passenger on the bus. Two college students obliged by trading her some other snack items for her delectables, after that, Yolanda et al. were friends for lyfe.
Our bus adventures thus ended, but the memories of that dueling-wheelchair-gray-green-vomit-fried-garbage-food have FOREVER been burned into my senses. I want to thank the entire cast of characters on board that day for inspiring what has thus followed, and inspiring me to always work the system, shit, that's how we get it done.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Sitcho' Ass Down or How We Upset all of Oakland
Sometimes bus hopping is a great social activity. A way to not only make friends on the bus, but to also form stronger bonds with those closest to you...like baby sisters.
Last week, my little sister came to visit and we had big plans to see MGMT at the Fox Theater in Oakland. I had never been to the Fox or seen MGMT, and she had never taken the 1 bus. Oh what a time it was bound to be.
We were so excited to see our favorite metal mystics that we decided it would be a good idea to start ramping up for the show at 3 pm...nearly seven hours before they were actually due to go onstage. After a chilly deck session filled with a lot of Sofia Coppola Blanc de Blanc canned wine and Wyder's Ciders, these bus hoppers were more than ready to hope on the 1.
On our journey to the bus we encountered many treasures on the ground...piles of shoes, fold up beds, and old teddy bears.
Once we got on the 1, we found a lovely spot in the middle of the bus (the part that moves around like the tea cups at Disneyland). Our brains felt like we were experiencing 1979 all over again, but we hadn't even arrived at the show yet.
After a long ride we reached the Fox and were enamored by the shiny marquee and helpful patrons. However, we were a bit confused by our balcony seats and in the depths of my mind I had a feeling that our free spirits might not be welcomed in the balcony world.
The show began in the lovely Bollywood-style re-vamped venue. The opening band, Francis and the Lights, had some cool moves, though it was hard to decipher who in fact was Francis. Bbay sister and I stood up during Francis and the Lights and kept standing for MGMT.
We just so happened to be in the very front of the balcony (which is tiered, so even if you do happen to be standing, those behind you can still see). After some lovely new and old songs, we received a tap on the back from a man behind us. He wanted us to sit down because his legs hurt...in our melted taffy minds we decided to compromise. We promised to sit down for the next song but would definitely be standing for the rest of the show. Remember when we were at a concert?
After some intense dancing in our seats he apologized and said we could stand. It was then that I realized who this individual was...a former GSI from an English class. It may have seemed more surprising prior to the concert but at the time and still at this moment he seems lazy and most likely library-bound.
Baby sister and I ignored the haters who didn't know any of the songs and stomped the yard instead, singing along to the Megamountain hits.
After the fantastic show, I reached down to grab my jacket from my seat and found a surprise...a ransom note?! Someone (perhaps a member of a 1970s cult or a fellow bus hopper) had cross-stitched (I kid you not) a note telling us that we "sucked at dancing and were NOT getting on stage. So Sitcho' asses down" (with a upside-down arrow). I didn't know we were at an arts and crafts fair and though this note was random,I took it as a compliment. And god knows I love free art.
We left the Fox bewildered and a bit angry, but ready for more adventures. We finally found the bus stop for the 1 after stumbling around Telegraph and made our way onto an empty bus. We discovered a Plan B packet on the seat behind us and would have expected nothing less.
After a glazed maple donut and a long walk home we felt accomplished.
We had managed to upset a whole section of the Fox theater, but we still had a blast and as always the bus still had our back.
Last week, my little sister came to visit and we had big plans to see MGMT at the Fox Theater in Oakland. I had never been to the Fox or seen MGMT, and she had never taken the 1 bus. Oh what a time it was bound to be.
We were so excited to see our favorite metal mystics that we decided it would be a good idea to start ramping up for the show at 3 pm...nearly seven hours before they were actually due to go onstage. After a chilly deck session filled with a lot of Sofia Coppola Blanc de Blanc canned wine and Wyder's Ciders, these bus hoppers were more than ready to hope on the 1.
On our journey to the bus we encountered many treasures on the ground...piles of shoes, fold up beds, and old teddy bears.
Once we got on the 1, we found a lovely spot in the middle of the bus (the part that moves around like the tea cups at Disneyland). Our brains felt like we were experiencing 1979 all over again, but we hadn't even arrived at the show yet.
After a long ride we reached the Fox and were enamored by the shiny marquee and helpful patrons. However, we were a bit confused by our balcony seats and in the depths of my mind I had a feeling that our free spirits might not be welcomed in the balcony world.
The show began in the lovely Bollywood-style re-vamped venue. The opening band, Francis and the Lights, had some cool moves, though it was hard to decipher who in fact was Francis. Bbay sister and I stood up during Francis and the Lights and kept standing for MGMT.
We just so happened to be in the very front of the balcony (which is tiered, so even if you do happen to be standing, those behind you can still see). After some lovely new and old songs, we received a tap on the back from a man behind us. He wanted us to sit down because his legs hurt...in our melted taffy minds we decided to compromise. We promised to sit down for the next song but would definitely be standing for the rest of the show. Remember when we were at a concert?
After some intense dancing in our seats he apologized and said we could stand. It was then that I realized who this individual was...a former GSI from an English class. It may have seemed more surprising prior to the concert but at the time and still at this moment he seems lazy and most likely library-bound.
Baby sister and I ignored the haters who didn't know any of the songs and stomped the yard instead, singing along to the Megamountain hits.
After the fantastic show, I reached down to grab my jacket from my seat and found a surprise...a ransom note?! Someone (perhaps a member of a 1970s cult or a fellow bus hopper) had cross-stitched (I kid you not) a note telling us that we "sucked at dancing and were NOT getting on stage. So Sitcho' asses down" (with a upside-down arrow). I didn't know we were at an arts and crafts fair and though this note was random,I took it as a compliment. And god knows I love free art.
We left the Fox bewildered and a bit angry, but ready for more adventures. We finally found the bus stop for the 1 after stumbling around Telegraph and made our way onto an empty bus. We discovered a Plan B packet on the seat behind us and would have expected nothing less.
After a glazed maple donut and a long walk home we felt accomplished.
We had managed to upset a whole section of the Fox theater, but we still had a blast and as always the bus still had our back.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
D.I.N.O.S.A.U.R. a dinosaur
Dear dear followers,
just because we haven't been bus hopping as regularly doesn't mean we haven't been having adventures galore.
Sometimes the bus hoppers like to branch out.
Often times a long work week sitting in a figurine-filled cubicle can make one feel, well, quite crazy.
So, when a close friend decided that we needed to go to the Mission to see some bands I knew that good stories would ensue. The evening was mellow and the night was a hit. So nice for bus hoppers to both be 12 now...the possibilities for travels are endless.
However, often times coming back to the East Bay from the Mission at 1:30 in the morning can prove to be a bit more diffcult after many nachos, Wyder's ciders, and sweet basslines.
On this particular Friday night my friend (who shall remain nameless) claimed she knew how to get back to the East Bay via the Transbay bus. I had heard legends of this mystical bus but had never in fact had the pleasure of riding it (that's what she said?)...When the time came to take a bus to the Transbay terminal, we were stumped. Our brains felt broken and the bus stops happened to be merely painted on the lamp-posts. Luckily we got onto the 14 bus with all of our friends and guessed our way to the lovely Trans-bay terminal. It just so happened that the Trans-bay terminal shared some space with the Greyhound terminal...too much too soon.
I'd never been on the 800 Transbay bus, so I asked my friend and colleague where we were supposed to wait. Due to the fact that she decided not to wear her glasses, life was a little rough around the edges for her. She suggested that I ask someone in the terminal for directions. Let me tell you, it is quite difficult to ask anyone for help when the Transbay terminal looks like a People's Park convention--people asleep in their sleeping bags for miles on end.
Thankfully I found a friend with a bum leg and a semi-legit shiny vest...not Sex and the City chic, but close enough. He directed us to the platform with the misfits and we waited. I was scared but hoped for the best...the whole time questioning if the bus did actually exist. And it did!
Finally at 2 a.m. the 800 bus pulled up and inside all of our favorite friends awaited us. The ride was filled with trashy dialogue and who knew there was a bus stop on the Bay Bridge? We picked up a man with a grey beard covered in moss...
There was a cool kid drinking Joose on the bus while throwing quarters and running to pick them up. People get creative and I really approved of his one-man drinking game.
After a 30 minute bus ride we made it back to Shattuck and booked it home.
Though I enjoyed our misadventures, I was never more happen to be asleep in my own bed...far far away from any Greyhound terminal.
But, oh, Transbay, did you deliver.
just because we haven't been bus hopping as regularly doesn't mean we haven't been having adventures galore.
Sometimes the bus hoppers like to branch out.
Often times a long work week sitting in a figurine-filled cubicle can make one feel, well, quite crazy.
So, when a close friend decided that we needed to go to the Mission to see some bands I knew that good stories would ensue. The evening was mellow and the night was a hit. So nice for bus hoppers to both be 12 now...the possibilities for travels are endless.
However, often times coming back to the East Bay from the Mission at 1:30 in the morning can prove to be a bit more diffcult after many nachos, Wyder's ciders, and sweet basslines.
On this particular Friday night my friend (who shall remain nameless) claimed she knew how to get back to the East Bay via the Transbay bus. I had heard legends of this mystical bus but had never in fact had the pleasure of riding it (that's what she said?)...When the time came to take a bus to the Transbay terminal, we were stumped. Our brains felt broken and the bus stops happened to be merely painted on the lamp-posts. Luckily we got onto the 14 bus with all of our friends and guessed our way to the lovely Trans-bay terminal. It just so happened that the Trans-bay terminal shared some space with the Greyhound terminal...too much too soon.
I'd never been on the 800 Transbay bus, so I asked my friend and colleague where we were supposed to wait. Due to the fact that she decided not to wear her glasses, life was a little rough around the edges for her. She suggested that I ask someone in the terminal for directions. Let me tell you, it is quite difficult to ask anyone for help when the Transbay terminal looks like a People's Park convention--people asleep in their sleeping bags for miles on end.
Thankfully I found a friend with a bum leg and a semi-legit shiny vest...not Sex and the City chic, but close enough. He directed us to the platform with the misfits and we waited. I was scared but hoped for the best...the whole time questioning if the bus did actually exist. And it did!
Finally at 2 a.m. the 800 bus pulled up and inside all of our favorite friends awaited us. The ride was filled with trashy dialogue and who knew there was a bus stop on the Bay Bridge? We picked up a man with a grey beard covered in moss...
There was a cool kid drinking Joose on the bus while throwing quarters and running to pick them up. People get creative and I really approved of his one-man drinking game.
After a 30 minute bus ride we made it back to Shattuck and booked it home.
Though I enjoyed our misadventures, I was never more happen to be asleep in my own bed...far far away from any Greyhound terminal.
But, oh, Transbay, did you deliver.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Kick em' to the Curb
And yet again Bus Hoppers have fallen short of keeping you updated on our bus hopping adventures. Though we promised to live blog from the Southern California transit lines, this in fact did not happen. Probably because driving in a car fast on the freeway sounded more appealing.
But after much delibration and a couple bus hopping tales from contributing writers, we realized that bus hopping is in fact an art, a ritual, and a way of life.
Where else can you escape a potential riot? Where else can you make new friends who may or may not be homeless? And where else can you rightfully baptize your new ipod?
Only on the bus dear friends. Only, truly on AC Transit.
More adventures and stories to come. One faithful follower shared some exciting news...the 1 bus she was riding came to a sudden halt the other day when the hydraulics fell out! Who knew this could happen? It seems almost more magical than spotting a unicorn.
Let the games begin and please watch out for sudden stops.
But after much delibration and a couple bus hopping tales from contributing writers, we realized that bus hopping is in fact an art, a ritual, and a way of life.
Where else can you escape a potential riot? Where else can you make new friends who may or may not be homeless? And where else can you rightfully baptize your new ipod?
Only on the bus dear friends. Only, truly on AC Transit.
More adventures and stories to come. One faithful follower shared some exciting news...the 1 bus she was riding came to a sudden halt the other day when the hydraulics fell out! Who knew this could happen? It seems almost more magical than spotting a unicorn.
Let the games begin and please watch out for sudden stops.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Public Announcement
Hello faithful followers,
Although one half of the bus hoppers duo will be out of the greater Bay Area for the next two weeks, the other half will be back and ready to take the city by storm...via bus, bus, and more bus.
Also, look out for updates on bus hopping and trolley hopping in the San Diego area...it could get real, real fast.
That is all.
Although one half of the bus hoppers duo will be out of the greater Bay Area for the next two weeks, the other half will be back and ready to take the city by storm...via bus, bus, and more bus.
Also, look out for updates on bus hopping and trolley hopping in the San Diego area...it could get real, real fast.
That is all.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Pretty Young Things
It's like all my friends on the bus know that I write a blog about buses.
Since this will be my last AC Transit-based post until I come back from my homeward bound adventures, the 1 knew exactly how to bid me farewell in style on this hot day that made my brain melt.
As I walked to the the bus stop on my way to Oakland I did wonder what my trip on the 1 would be like since last weekend proved to be nothing short of underwhelming...or maybe it was just whelming.
Waiting at the 1 stop on Telegraph and Dwight never ceases to amaze me and today all of my friends were out in full force.
I realized today that just because I can't hear all of the characters at the bus stop doesn't mean that they don't want to be my friend.
Standing next to the old pay phone seemed to encourage the homeless Frick and Frack to stage a bit of performance art in front of my very eyes. The man in the safari surfer hat decided to eat his delicious burrito directly in front of me while his other half (man or woman...hard to say) chugged her canned beer and did a little jig.
The beer turned out to be so good that once she was done she smashed it against a tree...
Between the sounds of the street and my own faithful music, she appeared to be rapping about "fucking this city with a million dollars." Too true too soon.
Finally the 1 arrived but there was some street mojo that had to be straightened out first. The beer infused friend confronted another friend in dark dark sunglasses and apparently said something that made him very angry...so much so that he started to choke him/her a lot yelling "I thought I told you I never wanted to see your face around here again!!"
Due to the drama of this situation, the bus driver didn't allow the drunkst choking victim onto the bus for fear of a re-enactment from the 1989 hit "Crackhouse".
But wait there's more. Who knew that there were silver foxes in Oakland?
Usually one might define silver fox as: An attractive older man. Generally, one that has gray hair and is often desired by younger women. (Thank you Urban Dictionary).
In actuality it seemed that one can think of himself as a silver fox even if he appears to be potentially homeless but is actually only in need of the keys to the gallery next to yours.
Let's just say that this fellow...we'll call him Steve...was very much interested in coming into the gallery I happened to be sitting in this afternoon and wanted to chat it up. He must have come into the gallery at least 6 times asking what time it was (really? you don't even have a watch?). Then he asked if I wanted a beer since he just found some in a back shed! The best was when he asked if I was the pretty young thing they hired to sit in the gallery. All in all good pick up lines that unfortunately did not work.
Coming home, the 1 was 45 minutes late as I melted like a small angry popsicle in the funny Oakland sun.
And surely riding the bus is never the most comfortable experience, but at the end of the day (like the insightful man on the 1 this afternoon announced) we are all just trying to get by.
Since this will be my last AC Transit-based post until I come back from my homeward bound adventures, the 1 knew exactly how to bid me farewell in style on this hot day that made my brain melt.
As I walked to the the bus stop on my way to Oakland I did wonder what my trip on the 1 would be like since last weekend proved to be nothing short of underwhelming...or maybe it was just whelming.
Waiting at the 1 stop on Telegraph and Dwight never ceases to amaze me and today all of my friends were out in full force.
I realized today that just because I can't hear all of the characters at the bus stop doesn't mean that they don't want to be my friend.
Standing next to the old pay phone seemed to encourage the homeless Frick and Frack to stage a bit of performance art in front of my very eyes. The man in the safari surfer hat decided to eat his delicious burrito directly in front of me while his other half (man or woman...hard to say) chugged her canned beer and did a little jig.
The beer turned out to be so good that once she was done she smashed it against a tree...
Between the sounds of the street and my own faithful music, she appeared to be rapping about "fucking this city with a million dollars." Too true too soon.
Finally the 1 arrived but there was some street mojo that had to be straightened out first. The beer infused friend confronted another friend in dark dark sunglasses and apparently said something that made him very angry...so much so that he started to choke him/her a lot yelling "I thought I told you I never wanted to see your face around here again!!"
Due to the drama of this situation, the bus driver didn't allow the drunkst choking victim onto the bus for fear of a re-enactment from the 1989 hit "Crackhouse".
But wait there's more. Who knew that there were silver foxes in Oakland?
Usually one might define silver fox as: An attractive older man. Generally, one that has gray hair and is often desired by younger women. (Thank you Urban Dictionary).
In actuality it seemed that one can think of himself as a silver fox even if he appears to be potentially homeless but is actually only in need of the keys to the gallery next to yours.
Let's just say that this fellow...we'll call him Steve...was very much interested in coming into the gallery I happened to be sitting in this afternoon and wanted to chat it up. He must have come into the gallery at least 6 times asking what time it was (really? you don't even have a watch?). Then he asked if I wanted a beer since he just found some in a back shed! The best was when he asked if I was the pretty young thing they hired to sit in the gallery. All in all good pick up lines that unfortunately did not work.
Coming home, the 1 was 45 minutes late as I melted like a small angry popsicle in the funny Oakland sun.
And surely riding the bus is never the most comfortable experience, but at the end of the day (like the insightful man on the 1 this afternoon announced) we are all just trying to get by.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Hola Bonita or How I Survived Shattuck Ave.
Bus hopping truly requires letting go of all and any fears...particularly those fears that come with wearing a summer dress on the bus (as has been noted in past adventures). However, there comes a time when all the friends and characters not on the bus make us question traveling by foot.
Yesterday was a spectacular summer day that nearly mimicked any day in Southern California. As I walked down Shattuck Avenue amongst all of the regulars and those getting off work, I knew I had one mission and one mission only: to get on the 51B and go back home.
This indeed was not as simple as it sounded. As I attempted to walk down the seedy sidewalk, a petite teddy-graham shaped cholo stumbled past me remarking "Hola Bonita...mmm...you are guapa!"
To this I could only say "Bleh" and roll my eyes. But afterwards I wondered many things: 1) How many times has this "pick-up" line ever really worked in all honesty? 2) Why should I have to worry about cholos in Berkeley? 3) I should be able to wear summer clothes in the summer. And scene.
Maybe he thought I was Nancy Botwin from Weeds, but I wasn't even driving around in a Prius with an iced coffee in hand.
All I knew was that even if I were to get looked at on the bus in my summer garb, at least I wouldn't have to deal with miniature friends in baggy pants and flannel.
And in this I realized why riding the bus was in fact a magical, sacred ritual that nothing could top.
Yesterday was a spectacular summer day that nearly mimicked any day in Southern California. As I walked down Shattuck Avenue amongst all of the regulars and those getting off work, I knew I had one mission and one mission only: to get on the 51B and go back home.
This indeed was not as simple as it sounded. As I attempted to walk down the seedy sidewalk, a petite teddy-graham shaped cholo stumbled past me remarking "Hola Bonita...mmm...you are guapa!"
To this I could only say "Bleh" and roll my eyes. But afterwards I wondered many things: 1) How many times has this "pick-up" line ever really worked in all honesty? 2) Why should I have to worry about cholos in Berkeley? 3) I should be able to wear summer clothes in the summer. And scene.
Maybe he thought I was Nancy Botwin from Weeds, but I wasn't even driving around in a Prius with an iced coffee in hand.
All I knew was that even if I were to get looked at on the bus in my summer garb, at least I wouldn't have to deal with miniature friends in baggy pants and flannel.
And in this I realized why riding the bus was in fact a magical, sacred ritual that nothing could top.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Chronicles of a Cookie Monster
When bus hopping, as discussed before, it is necessary to recognize the mystical magic that comes with carrying food and other treats onto the bus.
We found on our way to the BBQ in Oakland this weekend with kabobs, beer, and cookies that were not only for us but were potentially up for grabs for the entire bus stop and bus goers.
When waiting for the 1 for nearly 45 minutes with food and drinks in hand, one has to wonder when it is okay to bust out raw kabobs on the bus and subsequently start drinking our beers.
Luckily we didn't have to take our adventures to this level, but we were thinking seriously about it.
Likewise, we realized that the Lindsay Lohan raspy-voiced man waiting with us at the bus stop is truly the Cookie Montser of the East Bay.
Maybe we shouldn't call so much attention to our cookies by carrying them in large tupperware containers as it is quite difficult to hide a large tupperware container in a bright yellow purse.
Though we thought we got away from the Cookie Monster, the chase was not over.
The next day when traveling by foot (oh the horror!) I found myself passing by the same Cookie Monster yet again as I carried a very small tupperware full of cookies on the mean streets of Telegraph.
He was extra aggresive this time and kept yelling "I WANT SOME COOKIES GIRRRL!"
I couldn't help but laugh and Julliard-dance myself away from him....only to consider that we would most definitely meet again.
We found on our way to the BBQ in Oakland this weekend with kabobs, beer, and cookies that were not only for us but were potentially up for grabs for the entire bus stop and bus goers.
When waiting for the 1 for nearly 45 minutes with food and drinks in hand, one has to wonder when it is okay to bust out raw kabobs on the bus and subsequently start drinking our beers.
Luckily we didn't have to take our adventures to this level, but we were thinking seriously about it.
Likewise, we realized that the Lindsay Lohan raspy-voiced man waiting with us at the bus stop is truly the Cookie Montser of the East Bay.
Maybe we shouldn't call so much attention to our cookies by carrying them in large tupperware containers as it is quite difficult to hide a large tupperware container in a bright yellow purse.
Though we thought we got away from the Cookie Monster, the chase was not over.
The next day when traveling by foot (oh the horror!) I found myself passing by the same Cookie Monster yet again as I carried a very small tupperware full of cookies on the mean streets of Telegraph.
He was extra aggresive this time and kept yelling "I WANT SOME COOKIES GIRRRL!"
I couldn't help but laugh and Julliard-dance myself away from him....only to consider that we would most definitely meet again.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
What's better than Kabobs on the bus? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Part 2
After so much action on the 1, or rather, leading up to the 1, we knew we had to take a break before our next adventure to our old neighbors' house for a BBQ. So we stopped back at the home base castle to make some kabobs and fill our shopping bags with beer.
A thirty minute nap and the skewering of 2 bell peppers, 2 sausages and a handful of onions got us all pepped up for another bus adventure. We grabbed a sweater each and headed down to the good 'ol 1 stop on Telegraph (if you haven't checked it out, make haste). And we waited. and waited, and waited and waited andwaitedandwaitedandwaitedandwaited. Made some new friends who wanted to steal our cookies. Were serenaded by a man playing a duct-tape guitar ("Throw some golf balls and rubber tires in that mother-fucker...got a volcano in my backyard", a new song brought to you by the bus stop band). andwaitedandwaitedandwaited.
"What's our cut-off?" "5:30. There is NO way I'm waiting for this betch longer than an hour. No matter how much I love the 1." and just like that, magically our baby appeared, another 13 year old at the helm.
Side question: are there ANY requirements for an AC Transit bus driver? I mean honestly, do you even have to have a driver's license? or eyes?
Seated ourselves in the back (kind of our thing, if you know what I mean...) next to a couple VERY outspoken young ladies, who seemed like they might have been responsible for the filming of a favorite bus hopper's video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zWoE__ICkkc&feature=related. Not to mention their matching cheetah print leggings, gold teeth, and sweet tattoos (Chest tat of "family first"...next adventure, we're going to go get inked...stay tuned).
Switched to the 57 deep in West Oakland. There was NNNNNOOOOOOO way we were making that switch after dark on the way back. Looks like we're making boyfriends with cars tonight. Gotta have a plan.
Some members of our team (cough cough, not to name names) neglected to write down the directions for post-bus. Luckily, we hopped off next to the Budget Inn of West Oakland, seeing some old friends dancing their way through the parking lot. That's what networking is for, you never know when you'll need a sweet 50-something prostitute to help you out.
Anyway, long story short (well, not really...more like short story long...) we made it to the BBQ and got a ride home. No details for you ;)
A thirty minute nap and the skewering of 2 bell peppers, 2 sausages and a handful of onions got us all pepped up for another bus adventure. We grabbed a sweater each and headed down to the good 'ol 1 stop on Telegraph (if you haven't checked it out, make haste). And we waited. and waited, and waited and waited andwaitedandwaitedandwaitedandwaited. Made some new friends who wanted to steal our cookies. Were serenaded by a man playing a duct-tape guitar ("Throw some golf balls and rubber tires in that mother-fucker...got a volcano in my backyard", a new song brought to you by the bus stop band). andwaitedandwaitedandwaited.
"What's our cut-off?" "5:30. There is NO way I'm waiting for this betch longer than an hour. No matter how much I love the 1." and just like that, magically our baby appeared, another 13 year old at the helm.
Side question: are there ANY requirements for an AC Transit bus driver? I mean honestly, do you even have to have a driver's license? or eyes?
Seated ourselves in the back (kind of our thing, if you know what I mean...) next to a couple VERY outspoken young ladies, who seemed like they might have been responsible for the filming of a favorite bus hopper's video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zWoE__ICkkc&feature=related. Not to mention their matching cheetah print leggings, gold teeth, and sweet tattoos (Chest tat of "family first"...next adventure, we're going to go get inked...stay tuned).
Switched to the 57 deep in West Oakland. There was NNNNNOOOOOOO way we were making that switch after dark on the way back. Looks like we're making boyfriends with cars tonight. Gotta have a plan.
Some members of our team (cough cough, not to name names) neglected to write down the directions for post-bus. Luckily, we hopped off next to the Budget Inn of West Oakland, seeing some old friends dancing their way through the parking lot. That's what networking is for, you never know when you'll need a sweet 50-something prostitute to help you out.
Anyway, long story short (well, not really...more like short story long...) we made it to the BBQ and got a ride home. No details for you ;)
Hey sista, can you spare a quarter? Part 1
When the sun is shining and there's nothing to do but ride buses and drink strawberry daiquiris, you know it's time to jump in your prettiest summer frock and ask yourself, or your roommate, "Is this a bus-hoppers kind of day?"
The obvious answer is yes, with the one caveat, "Am I ready to get all them bugs in my vajay?" There are just some occupational hazards we must incur, and the dress was a non-negotiable.
So ya'll don't get lost, I'm going to break the journey down by route. The adventure was as follows (in case you want to replicate it): 51B, 72 (southbound), 72M (northbound), 1 (northbound), *break*, 1 (southbound), 57.
As a seasoned bus hopper, you know it's going to be a good day when you step on to College Ave with nothing but a borrowed bus pass and a water bottle full of wine (not yet true, but an idea we're playing with...) and there, coming full speed ahead as if driven by a 14 year old is your new favorite bus, the 51B. Oh, there was no doubt about it, definitely going to be a good day. We scooted our way to the back of the bus, settling our bare legs onto the cozy blue plastic seats ("the bugs, the bugs!"), happily on our double date with a couple fine looking 40-something, mustached gentlemen.
We hopped off at the Pab (San Pablo for you novices out there) and ran (yes, actually ran...this is a full time gig you know) to catch the 72. Thus began our journey into Oaktown: bibles, bottles, babies and all. We kept on ridin' because we knew it had to get worse before it could get better and we had no need for a new weave or a fire and brimstone sermon. Finally, we embarked onto a fairly safe looking street and stopped in at a good ol' Starbucks (a favorite friend depot for these travelers). "You ladies lookin' for something to do? My [frat] bros and I are having a BBQ in Ocean Beach." Thanks Starbucks man, you sure know how to make some ladies feel special.
Walk walk walk, watched a baby run 8 miles back and forth in Jack London Square. Crazy babies.
Finally, we headed back. The 72M was a nice quiet bus with a rowdy man ready for any type of sportcasting emergency that might rear it's head. After yelling at a young woman, who was completely minding her own business, he accused the bus driver of "chastising a blind man." A good scuffle ensued, thanks for the fun Sportscaster Dan.
And then there was the One. Any good bus hopper has to have their fail safe: that one bus that you know is guaranteed for a good time, like that booty call boy that's just too good to delete out of your phone. And to think we almost took the
51A ...idiots.
As we stood, waiting for the purple lights to announce our old friend's arrival, a man approached us, seemingly sprung from the man hole on the sidewalk of our West Oakland bus stop. He casually asked me, "Hey sista, can you spare a quarter?" I did the old avoid-eye-contact-pretend-to-be-dead thing, which was the exact WRONG move. "Red faced (assed?) bitch, I'm a break yo brains with this bottle bitch!" Thank god his glassy, cataract crazy eyes couldn't see us basically lose our shit, almost peed my pants from laughing so hard.
Moral of the story, you can always count on the 1.
The obvious answer is yes, with the one caveat, "Am I ready to get all them bugs in my vajay?" There are just some occupational hazards we must incur, and the dress was a non-negotiable.
So ya'll don't get lost, I'm going to break the journey down by route. The adventure was as follows (in case you want to replicate it): 51B, 72 (southbound), 72M (northbound), 1 (northbound), *break*, 1 (southbound), 57.
As a seasoned bus hopper, you know it's going to be a good day when you step on to College Ave with nothing but a borrowed bus pass and a water bottle full of wine (not yet true, but an idea we're playing with...) and there, coming full speed ahead as if driven by a 14 year old is your new favorite bus, the 51B. Oh, there was no doubt about it, definitely going to be a good day. We scooted our way to the back of the bus, settling our bare legs onto the cozy blue plastic seats ("the bugs, the bugs!"), happily on our double date with a couple fine looking 40-something, mustached gentlemen.
We hopped off at the Pab (San Pablo for you novices out there) and ran (yes, actually ran...this is a full time gig you know) to catch the 72. Thus began our journey into Oaktown: bibles, bottles, babies and all. We kept on ridin' because we knew it had to get worse before it could get better and we had no need for a new weave or a fire and brimstone sermon. Finally, we embarked onto a fairly safe looking street and stopped in at a good ol' Starbucks (a favorite friend depot for these travelers). "You ladies lookin' for something to do? My [frat] bros and I are having a BBQ in Ocean Beach." Thanks Starbucks man, you sure know how to make some ladies feel special.
Walk walk walk, watched a baby run 8 miles back and forth in Jack London Square. Crazy babies.
Finally, we headed back. The 72M was a nice quiet bus with a rowdy man ready for any type of sportcasting emergency that might rear it's head. After yelling at a young woman, who was completely minding her own business, he accused the bus driver of "chastising a blind man." A good scuffle ensued, thanks for the fun Sportscaster Dan.
And then there was the One. Any good bus hopper has to have their fail safe: that one bus that you know is guaranteed for a good time, like that booty call boy that's just too good to delete out of your phone. And to think we almost took the
51A ...idiots.
As we stood, waiting for the purple lights to announce our old friend's arrival, a man approached us, seemingly sprung from the man hole on the sidewalk of our West Oakland bus stop. He casually asked me, "Hey sista, can you spare a quarter?" I did the old avoid-eye-contact-pretend-to-be-dead thing, which was the exact WRONG move. "Red faced (assed?) bitch, I'm a break yo brains with this bottle bitch!" Thank god his glassy, cataract crazy eyes couldn't see us basically lose our shit, almost peed my pants from laughing so hard.
Moral of the story, you can always count on the 1.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Back in Action
Faithful followers, it has been too long since Bus Hoppers has been updated. In the past two months, the big big news has been the complete re-organization of all AC Transit lines. While some might be upset by these major line changes and fewer buses, we at Bus Hoppers find a true adventure in any mass transit-related situation.
Now that our favorite line, the 51, has been split in half (the 51A and the 51B), there is really never a dull moment when changing buses in between Oakland and Berkeley.
But today was a legendary Bus Hoppers adventure as we made our way into the city for the San Francisco Fine Art Fair. Who knew that getting to Fort Mason would be half the fun?
After riding a seemingly normal BART train into the city (minus the man on BART who announced—"I'm kinda hecka hungry, can I have a dollar for a cheeseburger?") we were a bit confused as to which 30 Muni bus to take to Fort Mason (yes, we did branch out of the regular AC Transit). After some bad advice from a homeless man, some great advice from the Louis Vuitton saleswoman, and some okay advice from a Starbucks employee we found our bus stop.
We hopped on the 30 and began a journey at the back of the bus as those around us spoke very little English. Some other bus goers were upset to find that we had to get off the 30 bus and get on another 30 bus because the line ended, but we were up for anything.
We hopped on the 30 bus with our new friends and eventually made it to Fort Mason and the character-filled art fair. Luckily our false personas as art buyers paid off and a man asked us if we had any questions about the paintings he was selling (we didn't). But let's just say that we were already missing the trials and tribulations of public transportation.
On this blustery day we had a lot of trouble finding the 30 bus stop going back into the city but ended up boarding a very packed 30 bus with many tourists. We sat in the back of the bus again and I was able to sit across from a Jersey Shore couple. The girl had bigger goals for their weekend (like drinking wine and sitting in the park), while the boy simply wanted to drink a beer and eat dinner at Firenze by Night in Chinatown.
Meanwhile, at the front of the bus much drama ensued as one bus goer was doing a lot of yelling and evil genie laughing...so much so that the bus driver had to tell him that he needed to "lower his voice or get off!"—we were ready for a full-blown fight, but simply got more yelling and laughing.
Somehow we made it back home after much waiting for other AC transit buses. It was truly a lovely welcome to a summer in the bay with new bus lines and friends and strangers. And let's just say that there will surely be more frequent Bus Hoppers updates as we journey into Oakland, San Francisco, and beyond.
Now that our favorite line, the 51, has been split in half (the 51A and the 51B), there is really never a dull moment when changing buses in between Oakland and Berkeley.
But today was a legendary Bus Hoppers adventure as we made our way into the city for the San Francisco Fine Art Fair. Who knew that getting to Fort Mason would be half the fun?
After riding a seemingly normal BART train into the city (minus the man on BART who announced—"I'm kinda hecka hungry, can I have a dollar for a cheeseburger?") we were a bit confused as to which 30 Muni bus to take to Fort Mason (yes, we did branch out of the regular AC Transit). After some bad advice from a homeless man, some great advice from the Louis Vuitton saleswoman, and some okay advice from a Starbucks employee we found our bus stop.
We hopped on the 30 and began a journey at the back of the bus as those around us spoke very little English. Some other bus goers were upset to find that we had to get off the 30 bus and get on another 30 bus because the line ended, but we were up for anything.
We hopped on the 30 bus with our new friends and eventually made it to Fort Mason and the character-filled art fair. Luckily our false personas as art buyers paid off and a man asked us if we had any questions about the paintings he was selling (we didn't). But let's just say that we were already missing the trials and tribulations of public transportation.
On this blustery day we had a lot of trouble finding the 30 bus stop going back into the city but ended up boarding a very packed 30 bus with many tourists. We sat in the back of the bus again and I was able to sit across from a Jersey Shore couple. The girl had bigger goals for their weekend (like drinking wine and sitting in the park), while the boy simply wanted to drink a beer and eat dinner at Firenze by Night in Chinatown.
Meanwhile, at the front of the bus much drama ensued as one bus goer was doing a lot of yelling and evil genie laughing...so much so that the bus driver had to tell him that he needed to "lower his voice or get off!"—we were ready for a full-blown fight, but simply got more yelling and laughing.
Somehow we made it back home after much waiting for other AC transit buses. It was truly a lovely welcome to a summer in the bay with new bus lines and friends and strangers. And let's just say that there will surely be more frequent Bus Hoppers updates as we journey into Oakland, San Francisco, and beyond.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Teen Mom
Wow—yet again we at Bus Hoppers have been lagging on updating posts. However, after making two trips to the city in two days, I have witnessed many a character.
Today in particular I was riding on a retro-51 and stumbled upon for Oakland/Berkeley high schoolers...one of which had a baby in a decked out stroller.
The four friends and baby where sharing a lovely time on their journey, but more importantly were reminiscing about how when they listened to certain songs, they were reminded of certain memories.
One of the girls suggested that the other one keep her thoughts private and keep a diary girrrl.
This reminded me of how songs do hold certain stories, but I usually keep those stories in my head.
Maybe I should be more like the girl who shares them with the world through the bus.
Alright friends....we'll be back during spring break and might even update this blog with tales from new lands.
More to come.
Today in particular I was riding on a retro-51 and stumbled upon for Oakland/Berkeley high schoolers...one of which had a baby in a decked out stroller.
The four friends and baby where sharing a lovely time on their journey, but more importantly were reminiscing about how when they listened to certain songs, they were reminded of certain memories.
One of the girls suggested that the other one keep her thoughts private and keep a diary girrrl.
This reminded me of how songs do hold certain stories, but I usually keep those stories in my head.
Maybe I should be more like the girl who shares them with the world through the bus.
Alright friends....we'll be back during spring break and might even update this blog with tales from new lands.
More to come.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
A Private Bus for the Public
Last night was truly a bus hoppers adventure. We started off the night by jumping on the lovely 51 that never fails to surprise us. After a brief ride down to Shattuck we waited almost too long for the 18. But oh it was worth it.
Somehow sitting backwards on the 18 proved to be quite disorienting and there was not even any alcohol involved.
However, there was a man in a wheelchair who was pretty chatty. When it was his stop he said "Open Sesame!" as the bus driver opened the doors. There was also a very angsty Berkeley-High kid who looked like he stepped out of "My So-Called Life"...he was probably angry that he was missing out on Comic-Con this year.
After our 51 and 18 adventures we put in some good times with 75-year-olds...wow, they can sure party.
Coming home was a different sort of adventure. The 18 wasn't living up to its expectations, so we took a big chance and took the 79.
If the 79 was an animal, it would be a small dog...so compact.
We had the whole bus to ourselves which was so nice as we were able to admire the graffiti art on the seats. And sure enough the 79 didn't fail as we ended up where we began.
Oh AC Transit, we love you.
Somehow sitting backwards on the 18 proved to be quite disorienting and there was not even any alcohol involved.
However, there was a man in a wheelchair who was pretty chatty. When it was his stop he said "Open Sesame!" as the bus driver opened the doors. There was also a very angsty Berkeley-High kid who looked like he stepped out of "My So-Called Life"...he was probably angry that he was missing out on Comic-Con this year.
After our 51 and 18 adventures we put in some good times with 75-year-olds...wow, they can sure party.
Coming home was a different sort of adventure. The 18 wasn't living up to its expectations, so we took a big chance and took the 79.
If the 79 was an animal, it would be a small dog...so compact.
We had the whole bus to ourselves which was so nice as we were able to admire the graffiti art on the seats. And sure enough the 79 didn't fail as we ended up where we began.
Oh AC Transit, we love you.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Pregnant on the 51
As I picked up the 51 to come back from an underwhelming movie experience tonight I was surprised, but not that surprised to find myself face to face with a large woman exposing most of her body for the entire world to see. Upon turning to my right to investigate the questionable grunting coming from her side of the bus I noticed her shiny patent boots with faux fur tapping to a non-existent beat. She then moved seats to sit directly next to me and starting sneezing uncontrollably.
I am not sure whether she was pregnant or selling her body to the dimly-lit bus, but whatever it was it wasn't working for me.
I am not sure whether she was pregnant or selling her body to the dimly-lit bus, but whatever it was it wasn't working for me.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Groundhog Day
Since today is in fact February 2nd, 2010, Groundhog Day, I decided to write about an experience I had on the 51 last Friday which will probably occur via deja vu sometime in the future.
As I got on the extremely packed bus with everyone getting off work and school I realized that I was surrounded by many high school boys from Oakland Tech. Though I thought they would surely be discussing their crazy plans for the weekend, but instead they were discussing how "hecka good" Led Zeppelin was. This made me smile.
I hope these surprises occur on my bus adventures more often.
As I got on the extremely packed bus with everyone getting off work and school I realized that I was surrounded by many high school boys from Oakland Tech. Though I thought they would surely be discussing their crazy plans for the weekend, but instead they were discussing how "hecka good" Led Zeppelin was. This made me smile.
I hope these surprises occur on my bus adventures more often.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
The First Sunny Bus Day
Today I got to ride on one of the old-school 51s on my way to work.
Things were pretty subdued, except for the bus driver. She was having an elaborate conversation with the semi-homeless man in the front of the bus about eliminating all the negative people out of her life. A lot of it had to do with God but it made sense for the most part.
However, the quote I took away from this ten minute ride was the wise advice that the homeless man left us all with: "Your flesh wanna do it, but your spirit say no."
End scene.
Things were pretty subdued, except for the bus driver. She was having an elaborate conversation with the semi-homeless man in the front of the bus about eliminating all the negative people out of her life. A lot of it had to do with God but it made sense for the most part.
However, the quote I took away from this ten minute ride was the wise advice that the homeless man left us all with: "Your flesh wanna do it, but your spirit say no."
End scene.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Cats and Dogs Falling on the 51
This morning at 8:35 a.m. I waited for the 51 to come. According to Nextbus.com, an often reliable website, the bus was supposed to arrive in 10 minutes—at 8:40 a.m. As I stood there at the bus stop, I nearly died.
8:35 a.m. could have been any time of day because of the Hollywood movie-set-like rain and wind. Maybe it didn't help that my umbrella is missing a spoke, because as it continued invert itself I wondered if taking the bus was the right choice.
Unfortunately, the 51 was my only choice this morning on my long journey to work.
By 8:40 a.m., the crowd at the bus stop had tripled with everyone awaiting the bus. A girl next to me yelled—"I see it I see it!" and I nodded happily.
But as we stood there in the end-of-the-world rain, we watched the 51 fly past us, full of other bus hoppers.
For a moment I was upset, but realized that this added to the feel of the morning and maybe that bus wasn't the one I really wanted.
Luckily another bus arrived 10 minutes later and I wasn't late to work. There were no real friends to meet on the 51 this early in the morning.
But as I stepped off the bus to my place of work I realized how much I depend on the bus and technology. And even if it is raining cats and dogs and baby shoes, I will go to work.
8:35 a.m. could have been any time of day because of the Hollywood movie-set-like rain and wind. Maybe it didn't help that my umbrella is missing a spoke, because as it continued invert itself I wondered if taking the bus was the right choice.
Unfortunately, the 51 was my only choice this morning on my long journey to work.
By 8:40 a.m., the crowd at the bus stop had tripled with everyone awaiting the bus. A girl next to me yelled—"I see it I see it!" and I nodded happily.
But as we stood there in the end-of-the-world rain, we watched the 51 fly past us, full of other bus hoppers.
For a moment I was upset, but realized that this added to the feel of the morning and maybe that bus wasn't the one I really wanted.
Luckily another bus arrived 10 minutes later and I wasn't late to work. There were no real friends to meet on the 51 this early in the morning.
But as I stepped off the bus to my place of work I realized how much I depend on the bus and technology. And even if it is raining cats and dogs and baby shoes, I will go to work.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Riding the 18 or our pact with the devil
This past Sunday we began the new year with a ride on the 18 to head to the semi-normal North Berkeley. Well...normal in certain ways.
As we made our journey this past rainy Saturday we were immersed in the ever-exciting 18 bus line that runs from Shattuck to Solano Ave. The bus was full of the usual characters, but one in particular caught our attention. Sitting right next to the graffiti-darkened windows sat a man wearing CVS-quality sporty sunglasses and bright red devil horns. As he sat talking to himself we weren't sure what he was saying and it didn't matter.
Like so many times before we blankly stared at the seats in front of us, but this all changed in an instant. My roommate made a mistake and made eye contact with him. It was only for a second but in that moment she had sold her soul to the Shattuck devil man.
Luckily we got off at the stop we needed to without the devil man following behind.
As we made our journey this past rainy Saturday we were immersed in the ever-exciting 18 bus line that runs from Shattuck to Solano Ave. The bus was full of the usual characters, but one in particular caught our attention. Sitting right next to the graffiti-darkened windows sat a man wearing CVS-quality sporty sunglasses and bright red devil horns. As he sat talking to himself we weren't sure what he was saying and it didn't matter.
Like so many times before we blankly stared at the seats in front of us, but this all changed in an instant. My roommate made a mistake and made eye contact with him. It was only for a second but in that moment she had sold her soul to the Shattuck devil man.
Luckily we got off at the stop we needed to without the devil man following behind.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
