Heading down south to the nation’s capital so as to visit dear friends on the other side of the Potomac in Alexandria. The Bolt Bus picks up at 33rd Street and Seventh Avenue, which with I am quite familiar. It’ll drop off in DC at 10th and H Streets, with which I am totally unfamiliar, but I assume it can’t be too far from a subway station. Blue line to King Street in Alexandria.
Excuse me, not the subway. It’s the “Metro” in DC. They think they’re French.
Hot and muggy at 9:45 a.m. in midtown. It’ll be much hotter in DC. Gonna be tough to look nice for the party. I found a dress that suits, despite my excess weight. And shoes that are ‘dressy’ without being painful. It’s tough, clothes-shopping these days. Like an aging movie star, I have if not a glamour shot then a rather humorous version of one on the living room wall. I was quite young, I was quite slim, I was cute. It even includes the erstwhile mole that one friend had called ‘piquant’ but the personal rep didn’t like, so off it went, leaving me feeling like a fake. It didn’t help. At any rate, the picture’s up on the wall now to try to get me off the couch to exercise. It’s not helping either.
The Bolt Bus stop is not where the sign says because of a street festival on 6th, but across 7th. There’s some confusion – lots of people, some waiting for the 10:15 to Baltimore and Greenbelt, some for the 10:30 to DC. No one telling anyone what’s going on, no signs. I’ll get over this abhorrence of inefficiency someday, I’m sure I will.
It’s a nice bus. Comfy seats with footrests. Suitcase stowed in the belly of the beast, I sit by a window two seats behind the driver and take out my Acer. Off we go. Everything seemed go, anyway, then stop-and-go, but all the while I’m reading, writing, using the free WiFi…. Then I realize that the bus driver got off the highway. Kindly, he announced that he’s just trying to circumvent traffic, taking a back way. We’re not being abducted. Bet we’ll get in late. But this is prettier anyway.
Bus stop on side of road with shopping carts lined up behind the shelter. Very odd. Plainsboro. Route U.S. 1, Scudders Mill . Rt 614, Jct 683. Middlesex County. Jeez. Still in Jersey after two hours on the road. Jersey’s always in the way.
We’re on South 1 now, 614 having ended. Jct 526. Princeton, Hightstown. 12:23. Ah, there, we’re picking up 295 South via the Jersey 'pike. Hate the Jersey 'pike. We’re right behind the 10:15 to Baltimore, which must be depressing for the folks who left 15 minutes before we did. Heavy traffic on whatever that road was. I wasn’t paying attention at the time.
Just passed a car on 295 with Pittsburgh plates, and thought of Cedar Tavern friends who moved back home. This driver’s a long way from home, once we get to Penna, he’ll have to hang a westward ho and go a hellluva long way.
High up in a bus, there’s a lot to see out there in the wilds of south Jersey.
Now what. Cops. Cars stopped. Everyone slowing down. What’s the stop for? Weird spot. Three lanes of car, bus and truck traffic on 295 south --why do they stop us? A herd of motorcycles breezes by from the right --the cars are crawling along, the motorcycles are zipping along. What the hell? Why they’re first class citizens and 4-, 6-, and 8-wheeled vehicles are second class I don’t get. Finally after they blast past us (this bus is great, the motorcycles are not deafening from in here), and eventually we start driving as if on a highway and not city streets.
How can we bypass New Jersey? Can’t get out of it. So glad I’m not driving. And it’s amazingly cheap --$11 round trip!-- so cannot complain of inefficiency. And when it comes to traffic – the moment you choose surface transportation, all schedules are fiction.
Especially in New Jersey.
From high up in the bus I can see so much more than I could were I driving myself. The vehicles stopped in front of me would have obscured my view of anything. From up here, I see us crossing over lakes and creeks and railroad tracks. There are trees all around, and so much land. After the cramped spaces of Manhattan during most of my daylight hours, even the relative openness of Queens is eclipsed by the sheer broadness of everything once away. And we’re still just in Jersey. I’ve only driven parts of the West, and flown over it. Maybe I should take a bus ride out West. Feel the hugeness.
I’ll still get in with time to go from DC by Metro to Alexandria, check into my hotel, and get ready for a party. Probably not enough time for the pool….. but I’m staying over tomorrow as well, so I can swim as often tomorrow as I’d like, then take a morning dip Monday before I reverse the process and take the Bolt Bus back to NYC in the afternoon.
The party is at some historic restaurant overlooking the Potomac, plus an excuse for a long weekend at a hotel with a pool -- pools are an easy lure for me! Since they moved down to Virginia a decade or go, B&A have been to NY several times, but this is my first time to Virginia to see them. Not that it’s my first time in DC.
Years back a friend was performing at Ford’s Theatre. Another friend and I drove down in my old Dodge that had never, ever made such a long trip in all her fifteen or so years. I took a photo of her in front of the theatre to prove to the aunt and uncle who ‘sold’ her to me that she could make it there just fine. And then there were the trips to Silver Spring. I always drove. Lots more stress involved. Freedom ain’t free. I love public transportation!!
2:47 p.m.. At 2 we pulled over for our rest stop in Delaware. Soy Chai Latte, a penny more than in NYC. My seatmate had a yummy smelling something from Cinnabon. Baltimore is almost 60 miles away.
We’re in Maryland and I just saw a confederate flag. Quite surprised. Well, I’m easily shocked. Bus driver figures now that we’ll get into DC around 4 (over an hour later than scheduled). Now I’m impatient to get there. My nephew called, so at least he’s in town. Hope to see him tomorrow – brunch maybe? Would be nice for him to meet my friends who are a few train stops away from where he lives (about 17 minutes by car).
Battery icon looks low, but it reads over an hour, so might as well type my impressions. Wish I could identify more than three trees. Did humans carve their way through these trees, always here, or did we destroy everything in our path and replant? How much work was involved in clearing the way for this 6-lane highway with grassy meridian the size of at least two more lanes. Love all these trees. Horses. Cows. Sheep? Ducks in a pond, don’t know why they make me so happy.
Babs’ sis in law will pick me up from hotel and we’ll go to the party together. I could cab, I’m sure, if need be – looks about 15 minutes away from the hotel, straight run down King to the River, hang a ralph for a little over 7 miles, it’d be tough to miss. I’ll ask at hotel. Maybe cab back so as not to bother anyone?
Baltimore is now 24 miles away. Trooper car in between north and south roads, everyone slowed down. Of course.
So dense, hilly, can’t see beyond the woods lining the road on either side. See into it and sometimes see a walking trail. Amazing country, really. Amazing that people went all the way west in just a couple hundred years.
Ah, there is something beyond the trees over there, low slung buildings, an industrial park? Princeton area had nice buildings, even the corporate ones. Almost 3 (should have been there by now), coming up to Rt 152 (Fallston/Joppatowne).
The trees must be a buffer, a barrier muffling the sound of the road for the buildings, communities, whatever is on the far side. Up a ridge to the west, what’s beyond that? Someone must have wondered long ago – what’s beyond? What’s over there? Let’s go look. I long to go to western Pennsylvania, where the forests are supposed to be practically virgin, the way they were when Europeans first came here. Massive. Dense. Dangerous and scary. As close as we’ll get to the Black Forest that generated so many fairy tales. All the ancient forests that covered the land and blocked the light. Dark tales, not really for children, unless the intent is to cripple them.
There’s a big hoe. Back hoe? Front hoe? Big. Digger. Dipper. With its maw painted as a monster, its teeth red on the black ‘face.’
Little Gunpowder Falls. Weird name. Think I’ll go online again, since this WiFi in the middle of nowhere is kind of fun. Another state trooper, on the northbound side, but hidden better, so a speeder won’t see him until it’s too late.
Trees.
The highway has widened to six lanes in either direction. Big Gunpowder Falls. A river runs way beneath us.
I-95 expansion. “Road work next 10 miles.” Hell. 10 miles that’ll take the same amount of time to cover as 30. Imagine, I-95 needs expansion when it’s this big already. There go the trees. Already some houses are too close to the road. We not only encroach on nature, we encroach on the roads cutting through. We must be near Baltimore now. White Marsh Blvd., Gunpowder State Park. Another Strayer University -- there was one near Princeton.
Tunnel coming up. “No Hazmats.” Remember when that was a strange word. We several of us, driving back from DC, saw the signs on the way to the Baltimore Tunnel and tried to puzzle out the word. Hilarity ensued, of course. Then we asked a tollbooth person what it meant. Our hearts were young and gay. How sweet we were. Imagine, there was a time when we didn’t know what “hazmats” meant as we were warned of their prohibition in the tunnels.
Wow. Intertwining roads like Roman aqueducts. Or have I got Roman aqueducts on my mind because I just finished Robert Harris’ “Pompeii.” Which was well constructed like those aqueducts, tense, historical. The man’s a smooth writer. His words flow well together, he switches from his primary third person POV character to another seamlessly. Never confusing. And renews my desire to see Pompeii, which I’ve had since Aunt Lois wrote “Fire in the Sky: Story of a Boy of Pompeii.”
"Harbor Tunnel approaches."
I hate tunnels.
We took the Lincoln out this morning, and it was, as usual, interminable even though I was already typing away on the short story I’ve been working on. I’m quite enjoying typing as I ride, as he drives. The woman in front of me is wrapped in an afghan, napping. Guess this is routine for her. It’s fun. 895 South toward Annapolis. Heart of the republic coming up. Or perhaps liver.
Funny, in here it seems so cool. But outside, an hour ago when we stopped, it was very hot. Not terribly muggy, just hot, as expected. Navigating unfamiliar subway system with suitcase ought to be entertaining -- to someone watching. We’ll see.
Johns Hopkins exit. Greektown. Pulaski sure did get around. Funny to see a jeep named Rubicon. It thinks a lot of itself. Well, I won’t cross it anyway.
"Overheight detector ahead." Baltimore Harbor Tunnel. I guess we aren’t overheight. We’re pretty tall. This BoltBus. Most people don’t talk. My seatmate and I exchange normal greetings at the first and second boardings, pleasantries, ‘love the smell of cinnabon,’ ‘won’t get into DC until tomorrow at this rate’ sort of thing. Someone’s snoring lightly. Ah, the other bus driver, the one who’s a passenger. Not the one driving. The one who needed a lift to DC so could drive some other bus. Hope that wasn’t supposed to be at 2:45, 'cause he’s late.
I see natural light! Well that wasn’t such a bad tunnel.
When not thoroughly occupied with something other than driving, the only way to get through the Lincoln is to sing along with the long version of American Pie. As the ending chord dies out, natural light appears within reach. And it’s a great song anyway.
Annapolis. Glen Burnie. Where’s Glengarry Glen Ross?
I keep thinking about what I have to do next week. At home research. Strategic thinking. Taking Balt/Wash Pkwy 29south. It’s 3:23 pm.
Nice ride but long. My fault – if I hadn’t been lazy and booked the 10:30 bus instead of the earlier one, probably would have missed most of the traffic. Of course, can’t check into the hotel until 4 anyway.
Computer says 1 hour 13 remaining on the battery. Good little Acer. Hopefully I’ll have put it away long before that! Hopefully we’ll be getting off this bus in half an hour, so I can find my way to the subway/metro/whichever to the blue line to Alexandria. The road is smaller now. The trees, the overpasses enclose the way. Everything’s closer together. Visibility impaired. This is urban. Washington 31 miles. This road is like the Grand Central Parkway -- so much more civilized than the LIE, but still a city highway.
Went out back this morning to ‘feed’ the flowers. I got this liquid plant food that spreads via the hose. “Feed every 7-14 days,” instructions read. Well, if I suddenly after two decades started feeding my flowers every week, they’d die of shock. So I’m going with 14 days. While I was out there, tiny critters swarmed. Suddenly I was all bit up, just from watering by hand. Gosh. Perhaps I smell sweet in the morning in my unwashed state. Au naturel. Hmmm. Oh gosh I hope I remembered to turn off the a/c. I hope the dishwasher doesn’t overflow and flood the kitchen. That only happened once in two years, but it was disturbing. At least I think it was the dishwasher.
Fort Meade, 2nd right.
Jct 175.
Two lanes in either direction now, but not at all crowded. We’re all moving quite briskly. Anticipation. I spoke too soon, we’re slowing down. Blinking lights: "Speed limit 55." “Arrive Alive.” “Caution.” And everyone slows down. But suddenly there are more cars in front of us than there were before the signs. Mystery entrances. Platform 9 ¾?
“NSA. Employees Only.” Yikes.
“National Cryptologic Museum.”
Forgot my vitamins. Glad I brought the Green Energybars. Had a McDonalds egg mcmuffin without meat at 9:45. Soy chai latte at 2. Nibbles on the energy bar (3/4 of it anyway) in between. Stop thinking about food.
Powder Mill Rd. Beltsville. Can’t see us navigating city streets all the way to 10th and H by 4. Of course, I don’t really know where we are, so I will shush. Sensible people are napping. I keep typing. Nice footrest drops down from the seat ahead. A little snug side by side, but not bad at all. Especially for eleven dollars round trip!
Jct 5. Annapolis.
When did we get on West 50? Closed my eyes for just a few minutes….
Passing the Washington Times building. Douglas Development Corp. “Arizona’s Jackson pitches no hitter.”
US National Arboretum. Ooh….
A Days Inn…. Fairfield Inn. Checkers, burgers fries colas. The Salvation Army Harbor Light Center. This is the outer edge of a big city. We’re here. Siren. Holiday Inn. “Evacuation Route.”
Everybody’s waking up
“Speed Hump Ahead.” Shouldn’t that be BUMP?
More construction. It’s everywhere. That’s supposed to be a positive thing, right?
Uh oh. “Low battery.” Ah, we’re at 14th street and H. Soon. Wait. 3:58 pm. Passing 10th. 9th. 8th. We’re supposed to be at H Street at 10th. We are reassured by the afghan-wrapped woman ahead of us – there’s another 10th. Oh.
OK, nobody gets to complain about the Queens way of naming some streets – 71st Avenue, 71st Road, 71st Drive, 71st Street are all at least close to one another. Apparently there’s another 10th street on the other side of DC. How confusing is that.
4:21 p.m. at the MetroCenter stop, Blue line to Alexandria. Woo hoo. OK, an hour and a half late. Here we all are in the southland. Yeah.
Epilogue:
Monday morning. Alexandria is charming. Too damn hot. Subway appears swell in off hours, but I’m told by those who experience it every day that the Metro was not built for rush hour.
There’s a big hoe. Back hoe? Front hoe? Big. Digger. Dipper. With its maw painted as a monster, its teeth red on the black ‘face.’
Little Gunpowder Falls. Weird name. Think I’ll go online again, since this WiFi in the middle of nowhere is kind of fun. Another state trooper, on the northbound side, but hidden better, so a speeder won’t see him until it’s too late.
Trees.
The highway has widened to six lanes in either direction. Big Gunpowder Falls. A river runs way beneath us.
I-95 expansion. “Road work next 10 miles.” Hell. 10 miles that’ll take the same amount of time to cover as 30. Imagine, I-95 needs expansion when it’s this big already. There go the trees. Already some houses are too close to the road. We not only encroach on nature, we encroach on the roads cutting through. We must be near Baltimore now. White Marsh Blvd., Gunpowder State Park. Another Strayer University -- there was one near Princeton.
Tunnel coming up. “No Hazmats.” Remember when that was a strange word. We several of us, driving back from DC, saw the signs on the way to the Baltimore Tunnel and tried to puzzle out the word. Hilarity ensued, of course. Then we asked a tollbooth person what it meant. Our hearts were young and gay. How sweet we were. Imagine, there was a time when we didn’t know what “hazmats” meant as we were warned of their prohibition in the tunnels.
Wow. Intertwining roads like Roman aqueducts. Or have I got Roman aqueducts on my mind because I just finished Robert Harris’ “Pompeii.” Which was well constructed like those aqueducts, tense, historical. The man’s a smooth writer. His words flow well together, he switches from his primary third person POV character to another seamlessly. Never confusing. And renews my desire to see Pompeii, which I’ve had since Aunt Lois wrote “Fire in the Sky: Story of a Boy of Pompeii.”
"Harbor Tunnel approaches."
I hate tunnels.
We took the Lincoln out this morning, and it was, as usual, interminable even though I was already typing away on the short story I’ve been working on. I’m quite enjoying typing as I ride, as he drives. The woman in front of me is wrapped in an afghan, napping. Guess this is routine for her. It’s fun. 895 South toward Annapolis. Heart of the republic coming up. Or perhaps liver.
Funny, in here it seems so cool. But outside, an hour ago when we stopped, it was very hot. Not terribly muggy, just hot, as expected. Navigating unfamiliar subway system with suitcase ought to be entertaining -- to someone watching. We’ll see.
Johns Hopkins exit. Greektown. Pulaski sure did get around. Funny to see a jeep named Rubicon. It thinks a lot of itself. Well, I won’t cross it anyway.
"Overheight detector ahead." Baltimore Harbor Tunnel. I guess we aren’t overheight. We’re pretty tall. This BoltBus. Most people don’t talk. My seatmate and I exchange normal greetings at the first and second boardings, pleasantries, ‘love the smell of cinnabon,’ ‘won’t get into DC until tomorrow at this rate’ sort of thing. Someone’s snoring lightly. Ah, the other bus driver, the one who’s a passenger. Not the one driving. The one who needed a lift to DC so could drive some other bus. Hope that wasn’t supposed to be at 2:45, 'cause he’s late.
I see natural light! Well that wasn’t such a bad tunnel.
When not thoroughly occupied with something other than driving, the only way to get through the Lincoln is to sing along with the long version of American Pie. As the ending chord dies out, natural light appears within reach. And it’s a great song anyway.
Annapolis. Glen Burnie. Where’s Glengarry Glen Ross?
I keep thinking about what I have to do next week. At home research. Strategic thinking. Taking Balt/Wash Pkwy 29south. It’s 3:23 pm.
Nice ride but long. My fault – if I hadn’t been lazy and booked the 10:30 bus instead of the earlier one, probably would have missed most of the traffic. Of course, can’t check into the hotel until 4 anyway.
Computer says 1 hour 13 remaining on the battery. Good little Acer. Hopefully I’ll have put it away long before that! Hopefully we’ll be getting off this bus in half an hour, so I can find my way to the subway/metro/whichever to the blue line to Alexandria. The road is smaller now. The trees, the overpasses enclose the way. Everything’s closer together. Visibility impaired. This is urban. Washington 31 miles. This road is like the Grand Central Parkway -- so much more civilized than the LIE, but still a city highway.
Went out back this morning to ‘feed’ the flowers. I got this liquid plant food that spreads via the hose. “Feed every 7-14 days,” instructions read. Well, if I suddenly after two decades started feeding my flowers every week, they’d die of shock. So I’m going with 14 days. While I was out there, tiny critters swarmed. Suddenly I was all bit up, just from watering by hand. Gosh. Perhaps I smell sweet in the morning in my unwashed state. Au naturel. Hmmm. Oh gosh I hope I remembered to turn off the a/c. I hope the dishwasher doesn’t overflow and flood the kitchen. That only happened once in two years, but it was disturbing. At least I think it was the dishwasher.
Fort Meade, 2nd right.
Jct 175.
Two lanes in either direction now, but not at all crowded. We’re all moving quite briskly. Anticipation. I spoke too soon, we’re slowing down. Blinking lights: "Speed limit 55." “Arrive Alive.” “Caution.” And everyone slows down. But suddenly there are more cars in front of us than there were before the signs. Mystery entrances. Platform 9 ¾?
“NSA. Employees Only.” Yikes.
“National Cryptologic Museum.”
Forgot my vitamins. Glad I brought the Green Energybars. Had a McDonalds egg mcmuffin without meat at 9:45. Soy chai latte at 2. Nibbles on the energy bar (3/4 of it anyway) in between. Stop thinking about food.
Powder Mill Rd. Beltsville. Can’t see us navigating city streets all the way to 10th and H by 4. Of course, I don’t really know where we are, so I will shush. Sensible people are napping. I keep typing. Nice footrest drops down from the seat ahead. A little snug side by side, but not bad at all. Especially for eleven dollars round trip!
Jct 5. Annapolis.
When did we get on West 50? Closed my eyes for just a few minutes….
Passing the Washington Times building. Douglas Development Corp. “Arizona’s Jackson pitches no hitter.”
US National Arboretum. Ooh….
A Days Inn…. Fairfield Inn. Checkers, burgers fries colas. The Salvation Army Harbor Light Center. This is the outer edge of a big city. We’re here. Siren. Holiday Inn. “Evacuation Route.”
Everybody’s waking up
“Speed Hump Ahead.” Shouldn’t that be BUMP?
More construction. It’s everywhere. That’s supposed to be a positive thing, right?
Uh oh. “Low battery.” Ah, we’re at 14th street and H. Soon. Wait. 3:58 pm. Passing 10th. 9th. 8th. We’re supposed to be at H Street at 10th. We are reassured by the afghan-wrapped woman ahead of us – there’s another 10th. Oh.
OK, nobody gets to complain about the Queens way of naming some streets – 71st Avenue, 71st Road, 71st Drive, 71st Street are all at least close to one another. Apparently there’s another 10th street on the other side of DC. How confusing is that.
4:21 p.m. at the MetroCenter stop, Blue line to Alexandria. Woo hoo. OK, an hour and a half late. Here we all are in the southland. Yeah.
Epilogue:
Monday morning. Alexandria is charming. Too damn hot. Subway appears swell in off hours, but I’m told by those who experience it every day that the Metro was not built for rush hour.
View from my room -- the King Street metro station and the George Washington National Masonic Memorial, which dominates the view as one walks from the river along King Street.
Packing up to head home. Took my last dip in the depth-challenged pool. This day will be different. The trip home to the same old will probably go really really fast.
The pool at the Alexandria Old Town Hilton is three feet deep. Everywhere. It’s not long, it’s not wide, and it’s three feet deep. This is not an issue for me – the water temperature was perfect, the room pleasant, those ugly workout machines were beyond the glass wall in the room next door. The music did not challenge, rather it aided in relaxation. A three foot depth, while odd, makes for imaginative exercising. But then, I’ve always had short arms.
12:05 p.m. In the Starbucks in yet another hotel across from the parking lot where the Bolt Bus picks up. My bus goes at 1, and it’s revoltingly hot out there. No way I can do an hour outdoors, and I prefer outdoors. I prefer New York. So much hotter here than home, how do people bear it? Or does that explain Washington? It’s too damn hot so they all want to spend their time anywhere but here, so they adjourn, they do anything they can to get out of town. Irresponsible as such behavior is, perhaps the heat in this landfill-over-swamp city explains everything. I know something about landfill over swamp. “New” Howard Beach, where I grew up, was landfill over swamp. All houses, after some number of years creak, they groan, they find their footing. They settle. And if where they’re settling is landfill over swamp, no one should be surprised if the suppressed swamp water and bugs seep through the foundations into the house on its ground floor.
1:16 p.m. Finally boarded and leaving in the one o’clock bus a bit late, after standing in the sun for half an hour. $11 round trip, shut up. Driving through Chinatown now. Wok with huge fire burning outside and above one of the restaurants. Odd.
Guy from Queens behind me. He’s loud and he hasn’t shut up since he got to the parking lot at H and 10th. And he had to sit right behind me. Sheesh. Please fall asleep.
Yes, I know I’m from Queens. But I am capable of shutting up. Really.
We’re crawling along on that two-lane road leading away from DC to the rest of Maryland etc. Can’t get out of the environs of DC anymore than we can get out of Jersey. Sky westerly looking cloudy. Maybe some rain will cut this heat. 2:08 p.m.
2:15 -- Sky getting really dark now. Yet no rain. Until 2:18. Hard and steady. Let it cool.
Trees look happy.
Packing up to head home. Took my last dip in the depth-challenged pool. This day will be different. The trip home to the same old will probably go really really fast.
The pool at the Alexandria Old Town Hilton is three feet deep. Everywhere. It’s not long, it’s not wide, and it’s three feet deep. This is not an issue for me – the water temperature was perfect, the room pleasant, those ugly workout machines were beyond the glass wall in the room next door. The music did not challenge, rather it aided in relaxation. A three foot depth, while odd, makes for imaginative exercising. But then, I’ve always had short arms.
12:05 p.m. In the Starbucks in yet another hotel across from the parking lot where the Bolt Bus picks up. My bus goes at 1, and it’s revoltingly hot out there. No way I can do an hour outdoors, and I prefer outdoors. I prefer New York. So much hotter here than home, how do people bear it? Or does that explain Washington? It’s too damn hot so they all want to spend their time anywhere but here, so they adjourn, they do anything they can to get out of town. Irresponsible as such behavior is, perhaps the heat in this landfill-over-swamp city explains everything. I know something about landfill over swamp. “New” Howard Beach, where I grew up, was landfill over swamp. All houses, after some number of years creak, they groan, they find their footing. They settle. And if where they’re settling is landfill over swamp, no one should be surprised if the suppressed swamp water and bugs seep through the foundations into the house on its ground floor.
1:16 p.m. Finally boarded and leaving in the one o’clock bus a bit late, after standing in the sun for half an hour. $11 round trip, shut up. Driving through Chinatown now. Wok with huge fire burning outside and above one of the restaurants. Odd.
Guy from Queens behind me. He’s loud and he hasn’t shut up since he got to the parking lot at H and 10th. And he had to sit right behind me. Sheesh. Please fall asleep.
Yes, I know I’m from Queens. But I am capable of shutting up. Really.
We’re crawling along on that two-lane road leading away from DC to the rest of Maryland etc. Can’t get out of the environs of DC anymore than we can get out of Jersey. Sky westerly looking cloudy. Maybe some rain will cut this heat. 2:08 p.m.
2:15 -- Sky getting really dark now. Yet no rain. Until 2:18. Hard and steady. Let it cool.
Trees look happy.
2:55 p.m. The Queens man has fallen asleep. He neither speaks nor snores. Nevertheless, I keep my earphones on, playing Artie Shaw on Windows Media Player.
How stupid am I for picking a bus that will go into NYC during rush hour. Sigh.
3:08 Maryland. Rt 222. Still raining. Probably a solid 2 hours, maybe more, to NYC. I did not bring an umbrella or a slicker. Oh well.
3:45. Delaware Memorial Bridge.
The rain and gray skies make it look cooler out there in the un-airconditioned world. Hope it is as it appears. Lanes still closed for construction all though no construction presently happening. The WiFi is having some trouble today.
4:43 p.m. Don't know where in Jersey we are, but I think we're still pretty far south. Traffic slowing to not-moving, so maybe we're closer than I thought. The gray clouds are looking a bit bluer, but the baby in the back of the bus is not comforted.
Finally make our way to the Holland Tunnel and into the city -- an hour and a quarter later than scheduled, just like the trip down to DC. Hmmm. Just remember to add that to every arrival time scheduled, and it works just fine. Especially for $11 round trip!
~ Molly Matera, signing off to head into the subway. At last.
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