Overheard on a Sunday trip to Fremont:

Westbound 14 stop, 23rd & Jackson, 2:30 PM

A dad and his two elementary-aged daughters are preparing to head downtown for some summer fun. As the bus pulls up, the dad turns to the younger of the two girls.

“Remember Hannah, you’re in charge of putting the money in.”

The little girl nods but looks slightly apprehensive as she steps into line. Just before boarding, she grabs her father’s hand and thrusts her fistful of bills at him.

“Daddy, I want you to do it!”

Eastbound 26 stop, 4th & Battery, 3:00 PM

Four women carrying folding chairs block the bus doors as they talk among themselves.

Woman 1: “Let’s see, if you can break a five, I can pay for her, and then she can buy me a coffee…”

The driver, who is far behind schedule and has already dealt with lift drama, downtown traffic, and a malfunctioning back door: “Ladies?”

Woman 2: “Sorry–we’re just trying to get our money together.”

Driver, exasperated: “It’s pay as you leave, so you’ll have plenty of time to get your money together.”

Woman 3, to the others: “See? I told you! It’s traumatic to ride the bus sometimes.”

Three young women from the University of Washington are sitting in the front section, passing the time on the ride home.

College woman 1: “Next year I’ll be a TA for juniors and seniors. They’re not going to respect me.”

CW 2: “Just bring a big-a** ruler on the first day and beat the crap out of one or two of ’em.”

A discussion ensues about ways to intimidate undergrads, most which involve yelling and yardsticks. Some are more elaborate and require props and professional actors.

CW 1: “I just don’t want to be one of those stoned TAs coming in saying, ‘I don’t have anything prepared today, so why don’t you just work on homework? But if you have any questions, don’t ask me, ’cause I have no idea.'”

Two men sitting in the front of the bus are making small talk. A couple of minutes in, they discover that they both spent time in Arizona.

Man 1: “Where in Arizona did you live?”
Man 2: “I started out in Yuma, but then I got tired of the snowbirds and bought some property near Avondale.”
Man 1: “Yuma? Why would anyone live in Yuma?”
Man 2: “Oh, I was just stupid. But I learned. When folks from Yuma die, they ask for an extra blanket in Hell.”

An off-duty driver is sitting in the front section, chatting with the on-duty driver. Both are apparently part-timers who work out of the same base (Atlantic).

On-duty driver: “I’m finally getting enough hours to cover everything; it was a struggle for a while.”

Off-duty driver: “That’s good. It’s always good when you can meet your bills.”

On-duty driver: “Yeah–for a while there they were calling, talking about they were going to ruin my credit. I said, ‘How are you going to ruin something I don’t even have?'”

As we creep down the West Valley Highway (or some such interminable road), Man 1 begins to sigh loudly and roll his eyes.

Man 2: “I’m telling you, you should have taken the 565. This is the bus you take if you’re just hanging out, with nothing to do and no place to be.”

Indeed.

I knew I should have followed Trip Planner’s first itinerary, which actually recommended I take the 565 to my destination in Kent. It was the double transfer that put me off…

Two men in the front section are passing the time with small talk.

Man 1: “You have any kids?”
Man 2: “Yeah–six: two in Texas, two in California, and two in Seattle.”
Man 1: “Whoa.”
Man 2: “Papa was a rolling stone.”

A continuation of last Thursday’s post:

Girl 2 asks to play the guitar, to show the boy a song she’s been describing. She takes it and plays for a minute, until Girl 1 grabs it and announces, “I’m going to play a song for the bus.” She starts strumming and sing-talking from her seat. Some sample lyrics:

“We’re on the bus.
“Look at all these people.
“There’s a guy with a hat.”

You get the idea.

The only people (besides me, ever in others folks’ business) who seemed to be paying her any mind were Girl 2 and the boy the guitar belonged to.

By the time we reached Cherry, she had tired of her song and turned her attention to the length of the ride.

Girl 1: “Are we there yet?”
Girl 2: No, we’re not even in the South End yet. This is the Central District.”
Girl 1: “Where are we going again?”
Girl 2: “The 2100 building. It’s down on Rainier.”

I’m going to have to find out more about this 2100 Building. It also happened to be the destination of the lost passenger I rode with earlier this month.

A group of teenagers is sitting in the elevated, side-facing section of an articulated bus. Most of them seem to know each other, except one of the boys, who is holding an acoustic guitar as if he’s about to start playing. This sparks a conversation with two of the girls across from him.

Girl 1 (gesturing to the other kids sitting near her): “These are our roommates.”

Boy: “You live with all those people?”

Girl 2: “Yep. Up in the U District. It’s a queer house. Everybody who lives there is gay…oh, except for Paul, and Annette, and Julie*. Actually, I guess everybody’s straight but me and [pointing to Girl 1] her.”

Girl 1: “Yeah, and I’m a halfie.”

Girl 2: “Yeah. You’re a halfie. You hit with both sides of the bat.”

(*These were not the actual names used–not because I’m adhering to any journalistic principle–but because I can’t remember them. ;)