Kendra's Surprise (Part 1)

Remember my busfriend Kendra? I told you all about her special Manfriend in a previous post. Here it is, just case you missed it: Kendra's Manfriend/Roger's Non-Disaster.

I got to the afternoon bus stop yesterday and Kendra was in a terrible state.

Kendra: "Oh my God!"
Me: "What?"
Kendra: "Oh my God! Where have you been?"
Me: "What? What went down?"
Kendra: "Remember the old guy? He was just here but now he's over across the street."
Me: "Your ~Manfriend~?
Kendra: "Yes."
Me: "Oh man! I wish he could see me talking to you. He'd be pissed!"
Kendra: "Well, you have to be here next week."
Me: "Why?"
Kendra: "He told me today that he has a special gift for me. A verrry special gift. And he's going to give it to me next week. Ugh!"
Me: "Hahaha! Seriously?!"
Kendra: "Yeah, and I'm totally freaked out! He also told me he thought I was very pretty [or something like that]."

We have no idea what her Manfriend has in store for her, but one thing is for sure: It is a very special gift.

Kendra and I naturally tried to guess what the "special gift" could possibly be.

We came up with:

• A dead animal.
• Something with a freaky love potion on it.
• Jewelry.
• Himself.
• Old photographs, which he sometimes brings along for sharing.
• A kiss. A big, old, sloppy French kiss.

Readers, what do you think the "special gift" could be? It's time for some audience participation. You know him as well as Kendra and/or I do. He is old, at least 70 years old. He is physically able-bodied (he could give chase if the need were to arise). And he's creepy.

Leaving comments for this blog is problematic for some people. You can also e-mail me your guesses. When Kendra's Manfriend ponies up the gift, I'll compile all the guesses and we'll see who comes closest.

Rest assured, I'll keep you posted.

This is my view in the morning coming into town on the bus. It has nothing to do with the story, but I think it's a cool picture of SODO, the stadiums, and my favorite major city up ahead.

Gucci Fo Sho / A.M. Train Ride / Hero

Gucci Fo Sho

I wrote the story about Gucci and Regina (say it however you like) on Sunday; that whole scene played out last Friday. Here's the link in case you missed it: Regina [ri-jahy-nuh].

Yesterday I rode the same Express 1 in the morning. I sat in the back sideways seats. During the route I was busy on my phone again. Passengers got on along the way. I noticed someone had sat on the other end of my bench seat, but there was a purse between us.

Lo and behold, it was Gucci and her purse!

I kept my head down, but I did notice one thing I'd like to share with you:

That is Gucci Fo Sho!

Gucci was wearing Gucci shoes. I can't make this stuff up. I giggled for a few miles at how clever I was to nickname her Gucci. Now if I see the nice make-up lady with a Mary Kay cosmetic bag I'll really crack up.

A.M. Train Ride

This morning I overslept and missed my bus. When faced with the choice of the Sounder Train or the dirty morning 150, I chose the train. That should be no surprise. When faced with the choice of walking 20-something miles to Seattle or taking the 150, I'm going to burn the soles off my New Balances a hundred times before I willingly take the 150. Unless I'm doing it for blog material.

The train -- that blessed train -- comes a full half hour after the last Express bus. I was able to take my time walking to Kent Station and I had plenty of time to take some pictures.

Really, you need to stand behind the line. When that Sounder train comes flying up to the station, it creates quite a breeze. Ladies, if you're wearing a dress it could come flying up Marilyn Monroe-style with the strong zephyr. I'll see everything you've got because I can read and I will be standing behind the yellow line.

Because the Sounder is the brilliant stallion of SoundTransit, they added Welcome mosaics for riders. There are a few Welcome blocks along the platform, behind the yellow line. Genius designers calculated the distance between doors based on the train stopping at a certain point and placed the Welcome blocks exactly where the doors will open. Passengers know where to line up for quick boarding.

Kent is famous for its historical...uhm...never mind. This is the view looking across from the platform. This is the Kent Train Station, which is located across from the Kent Sounder Station. I think the Train Station is abandoned. It's totally dilapidated. I believe the citizens argue at town hall meetings about keeping it and its neighboring eyesore (not pictured) because they're "landmarks."

Somehow I always end up sitting on the top level of the train next to the door separating the cars. This is also the door the security team comes through when they want to randomly check people's Orca cards or bus tickets. No one checks to make sure you've paid when you board. There are outside Orca card payment stands on the platform. You tap before boarding and when you get off so your card pays for the ride and Metro can tell if you went to Seattle or the Everett Station.

Like always, I got off at King Street Station downtown and walked across the street to the Chinatown/International District Station and hopped aboard a Metro bus to get all the way to work. I ended up on a 150 and got off at this station:

Convention Place Convention Place Convention Place. Apparently there's an echo.

Hero

The last few days on the bus and train have been entertaining for me, but not nearly as busworthy as what happened to a bus driver in New York State.

According to news reports, 52-year-old New York City bus driver Steve St. Bernard saw a seven-year-old girl dancing on an air conditioner jutting out from a 3rd story apartment building window. She is autistic and had gotten out through the window. He walked over to her just as she fell and caught her. Sure, he happened to be at the right place at the right time, but he is a father and seems like such a great man.

Watch the video here.

Regina [ri-jahy-nuh]

** Newsflash: busworthy's Internet address has changed from busworthy.blogspot.com to www.busworthy.com. That way it's easier to remember. Not like it's forgettable....

While there are several topics I could write about this morning, I'll catch you up to date with the Facebook teaser from a few days ago. The one about the woman searing laser eyes through my head.

I was on a packed morning Express 1 last Wednesday. It was obvious halfway through the route people would be standing when we got to the last stop before the freeway. I was sitting in the middle sideways seats, and I had my earbuds in while playing on my phone. I'm sure I was checking the statistics for busworthy and no doubt laughing about the silly search terms people use to find this blog.

At the last stop before the freeway, a regular rider boarded and sat next to me. I like her. She's very friendly. She usually applies her make-up on the ride into town. I sometimes watch her putting on the eye pencil (maybe not the exact name of the thingy) and I'm amazed she hasn't poked her eye out while the bus cruises down the HOV lane on I-5 like a boat on choppy water. Let's call her Mary Kay.

Mary Kay sits down next to me, and passengers continue coming down the aisle to stand by the back door. She looks at me, smiles, and makes an usually loud proclamation.

Mary Kay: "Well, I'll sit next to you because you're a gentleman. Besides, I wouldn't want her [nods to woman across from me] to have to move her purse."

Me: [In agreement of the lady across the way's lack of manners] "See?!"

At this point in the blog post, I need to give the rude purse lady a name for simplicity. Let's see...Gucci. She wasn't classy enough for a more modern purse brand name. She was sitting, legs crossed with her purse on the seat next to her. Gucci's arm was up on the purse's seat. She was splayed out comfortably and dressed in nice business casual.

Mary Kay settles herself in, and I continue my iPod/cell phone ritual. But I feel someone watching me. It's an unsettling feeling. I look up from my phone and my eyes take a second to focus. Then I see her.

Gucci's pissed at what Mary Kay said and she's doing her best to scorch my retinas out with her light sabre eyes. Really, I didn't start it or bring it up; I merely agreed. And there's no need to be hateful when you're the one at fault. Gucci stared at me, waiting for me to say something or start something, and then I think she would have hit me. I said nothing to her, just went back to my phone and thought about what an asshole that Gucci was to make people stand when she should have just held her crappy purse like a normal person. A normal person with a soul.

Halfway into the city I looked up again, and Gucci was done with giving me filthy looks. I looked out the window past her, but something caught my eye: Gucci had a tattoo on her forearm that looked like it came from a prison. It was the name "Regina" in fancy cursive. I started giggling, which turned into a full blown laugh. Gucci looked at me, then looked out the front window thinking I was laughing about something I was listening to.

Think again, Gucci.

In seventh or eighth grade I had a science teacher named Dr. Frasier. God love Dr. Frasier. He was really tall, really thin, and he had an old scar on one of his temples. It looked like he'd had a pretty significant head injury, but he was still able to teach. He's the right age to have been in Vietnam, so maybe that's where it came from.

Dr. Frasier was different than any other teacher I've ever had because he was the calmest man I've ever seen. His pulse rate never went over 80, no matter how rowdy the class got. Kids would cuss right to his face and he never got upset. He'd just tell them to settle down or to go sit in his office (at the back of the classroom) in a monotone voice. Either the head injury interrupted the anger center in his brain or he was on some serious downers.

There was a girl in class named Regina, prounced [ri-jeen-nah]. Her name rhymes with Tina. Regina Smethers. She was pretty cool. Dr. Frasier would be giving us a lecture on science and he'd ask the class a question. When Regina would raise her hand to answer the question, Dr. Frasier would call on her and mispronounce her name.

Instead of calling her Regina that rhymes with Tina, he would call her Regina that rhymes with vagina.

No matter how many times she corrected him, he continued calling her Regiiina. She started off politely correcting him.

"Uhm, my name is Regeena."

He would smile faintly and shrug.

After half a quarter of the entire class howling in laughter every day, her corrections got more colorful.

"Goddammit, my name is Regeena!"

He would smile faintly and shrug.

Thinking back, there was the possibility Dr. Frasier was Canadian. That would explain him insisting his pronunciation based on the Saskatchewan city.

The people in Regina, Saskatchewan Canada love their city. Above all, they love the way the name just rolls off your tongue. (Photo courtesy of Canada Photos.com.)

You can imagine Ms. Smether's frustration after being called Regiiina for a whole school year. Of course, the nickname found its way outside of class. Word spread like wildfire that her name could be mispronounced to sound like vagina. Kids were all over that.

Every in class day during roll call:

Dr. Frasier: "Devon?"
Devon: "Here."
Dr. Frasier: "Lisa?"
Lisa: "Here."
Dr. Frasier: "Regiiina?" Class erupts in laughter.
Regina: "GODDAMMIT!"
Dr. Frasier: [Faint smile, shrug] "Okay. Let's take a look at chlorophyll today...."

Naturally when I saw Gucci's tattoo I was transported back to middle school and that poor girl Regina and Dr. Frasier. I honestly believe he did that on purpose all year long. We all thought he was lame, but he had the cognitive ability and the good sense to make vagina puns on a daily basis. Kudos to him for adding some humor to our classroom.

The picture above is Dr. Vance Frasier. I got it from a class photo from 1978, but I was in his class in 1984 or 1985 when he moved from being the principal at Carmel River School to teaching at Carmel Middle School.