Bussing.

For whatever reason (actually I know, or at least, can theorize a few of them; but won’t) I have never looked highly upon public transit. My bus riding years, as a child, were incredibly limited and outside of my Freshman year in Eugene, I’ve probably utilized public transit enough times to be counted on one hand.

Upon moving back to the great Pacific Northwest, to Seattle, one of the things that I was wanting was that of an urban (or at least more than LA) vibe. A component of such living is that of being a patron of public transit.

Now nearly two months into living up here, 1 flex pass I received as part of my new job, later … I find myself aboard the 255 bus to Seattle, headed to work.

(Stating the obvious) The seats of the bus fill one-by-one, stop-by-stop. Lifting my head, from my spot near the back, I eye the new riders, feeling like an ass for using my eyes and body language to convey that I do not wish to be sat next to.

“Seat’s taken,” I unfold with a southern drawl, Greenbow, AL style.

If it weren’t for the fact that I have two bags with me, my looks and eyebrow raises would prove fruitless. With that said, I’ll stop.

(Side note: I am listening to the 06 Radiohead – Greek Theater performance, and… my iPhone has already skidded across the floor once. Eep.)

My non-car traveling does not end with my bus ride to work and it will not end with a bus ride home. Rather, I will be boarding the 5:30 Amtrak destined for Portland, for the weekend. This, my friends will be only my second time on a choo-choo0, for the first time the train I am on will be non-stationary.

3.5 hours of rail-gliding fun.

At this moment, I have an incredibly romanticized picture of how this train ride will be. Drinks in the lounge care, witty banter with strangers, maybe a little book reading, some time for writing and if I’m lucky … perhaps a murder mystery! (I’d settle for a horse aided train robbery)

Until later. Like when I’m train commuting.