Yesterday I stopped at Victrola, en route to another hospital visit with my mom. While I was in line, two of the baristas–you know the types: Gen Y, artsy, fit, slightly alternative–started talking about the bus. The guy barista called the girl barista his “bus buddy.”

“I always see her on the 43,” he explained to the small group of us waiting for our drinks.

I couldn’t resist the opportunity to join in a conversation about buses and so said something useless about the 43 being the bus to ride on the Hill.

“Yeah,” said the guy behind me. “Everybody’s doing it.”