yea, i'm crazy so what's the fuss?
I am forever thankful to Matt Marohl for giving me a copy of Jonathan Richman’s “Jonathan Goes Country.” He actually gave it to Micah and I eight years ago while we were touring through his then home of Chicago. Click on the link above and listen to You’re Crazy For Taking the Bus as you read on.
My first bus experience in St. Paul involved flying in to St. Paul in January 1996 and needing to get to Concordia University. It was about 11:30 pm, I had only lived in St. Paul for 3 months and I got on the last bus of the night. Unfortunately it was the wrong last bus of the night.
I had been out in California and was traveling with a fleece as my only near winter clothing. That night it was 10 below out. As the bus cruised into downtown St. Paul I soon realized I had no idea where I was or where I should get off, and if I did get off which direction to walk towards campus. This was the mysterious pre-cellular period of time when people that needed rides from the airport planned ahead to be picked up or kept phone numbers and spare change in their pocket to call a friend for a ride. None of my friends had cars at the time so that wouldn’t have done me much good anyhow.
So pretty soon it was just me and the bus driver cruising downtown and as he pulled up to yet another unknown corner he told me it was the last stop of the night. I asked where we were. He asked where I was trying to go. I told him Concordia. He said it was a bit of a walk and he took pity on me. This was when the metro hub was a block away from Concordia in the Midway and so what did he do? Since he was taking the bus in for the night he’d be going right by Concordia so he dropped me off across the street from my dorm. I love the bus.
We use the bus a lot more now days. In fact we’re putting a for sale sign on our second vehicle (1998 Honda Civic LX a real gem, blue booked at $4.800 will part with for $4800 call Nate 612.269.9023)
Monday I took the girls down to Mississippi Market on the bus. We bought milk, peanut butter, juice, and many other big heavy things. Elsa was on my back, I had two huge cloth bags we got back on the bus. It started to pour. When we got off a block from our house we busted out Lydia’s little umbrellas, I held both bags in one hand (heavy) tried to hold an umbrella over Elsa and with all the speed a curious 4 year old in the wonderment of the rain can muster we meandered home.
You don’t get memories like that in a car. Nor do you get quite as soaked. Oh well, I still love the bus.