So, it was like this. I left on a bus to travel far across the city to the fair land of Ravenna, where I was needed to feed, water, and poop two cats. The Blackwingedmobile was in the garage undergoing some basic customization, the adding of thrust boosters, another set of under-bumper machine guns, and changes to the aquatic transformation algorithm.

Taking the bus is always the cause of adventure for me and last night was no exception. Typically, it was late, as it is always is late, and I stood for a good twenty minutes past the scheduled bus arrival (happens every time) wondering why the bus stop was facing away from the road and into a quarry. Then I thought, well maybe the bus will rise out of the quarry like Brigadoon and I just have to wait for the right environmental factors. I even squeezed a passing cat hoping to make bagpipe sounds, but before we could become even better acquainted, the bus arrived.

I love bus travel, probably because I do it so infrequently. There's something about the lurch and squeal of those monsters, the street signs whizzing away at all angles, the complicated dance of "Do I pay when I ENTER or when I LEAVE" that makes me happy. I'm your obvious tourist bus rider, standing and watching down the street eagerly, clutching either my transfer or my dollar and quarter, as if to say, "Yes, citizens! Today I ride the bus!"

I de-bussed in front of Nana's Soup Kitchen, one of the finer eating establishments in Ravenna, and took my leisurely .3 mile stroll to cat land, where I fed, watered and pooped as required, then walked the .3 miles back. The smell from Nana's was overpowering, so I went inside, had myself a tuna sandwich on a baguette and a bowl of vegetarian chili that was hotter than the surface of Mercury and required fifteen weeks of cooling to be able to touch it to my tongue. For some reason, the entertainment at Nana's was a barbershop quartet of men so amazingly unfunky that "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" was performed with each syllable E-NUNC-I-ATED... A WHIM - OH - WHEY, A WHIM - OH - WHEY, A WHIM - OH - WHEY...

I still tipped them a few bucks, hopefully to get new vests.

When I, innocent bus rider as I am, returned to the bus stop I discovered that the buses had stopped running. Well technically, the next bus wasn't due for another hour, but it had also stopped its full service route. Should I wait an hour for a bus that only took me part of the way home? Seemed a bit ridiculous when I had two good legs underneath me.

So I started walking. And I walked. And somewhere in the middle of walking, it felt so good to get all the anxiety and stress out of me by moving my legs, that I just kept walking. I thought, "hey, I'll walk home! I can walk home! I used to do it when I was 30!"

And that is insanity, because I was about 4 miles from home as the crow flies, and a good 5 as the man walks. And it was late and I was tired and full of chili. Exertion plus a stomach filled with chili means a swatch of dead flowers behind me.

So instead, I figured, well I'll just walk and try to find a bus. And so down the hill I went, and across the avenue I went, and into University Village I went. And then, for some reason, I decided that since I wasn't finding a bus, I should cut through the campus of the University of Washington, a place that I had only driven through maybe four times in my life and never walked. And it was here that I started not to have fun and instead started getting that feeling of wanting to go home, not sure how I ended up in this position, and generally being lost.

I met two crows by the Cyclotron. I don't know what a Cyclotron is. In fact, I don't want to know what a Cyclotron is, because my imagination of the massive device that was contained behind the lab doors was delicious. The crows were startled and looked at me as if to say, "What... in the hell are you doing here?" I asked them the right direction, and they flew north, so I followed.

I met a cat by some stairs who was crouched down, staring at a dime in the street. I decided not to pick up the dime, and the cat relaxed, almost annoyed. I figured that the cat had set up some elaborate snare, triggered by the shiny coin and was using it to catch and eat greedy and unwary humans.

I walked on.

I then met a dragonfly who buzzed around my head and in following it, led me west. It zipped off towards some shady grove of trees.

And eventually, I emerged from the maze of campus buildings a short few blocks from to a bus stop that carried me within a quarter mile of being home.

However, within 30 seconds of my return, a car swerved in front of the bus, the bus slammed on its brakes, and we came within a hair of killing someone and being involved in an accident. It was then that I looked at all the people around me, much like I do sometimes on elevators or on ferry boats. These people at that moment were my community. I tried to imagine how they'd be if our bus overturned, who might need help, who might help in turn, who would be the organizers, who would panic. And as I did so, I noticed that everyone on the bus was also looking at everyone else, silently.

I wondered if they were having the same thought.

I arrived home, after having walked probably four miles anyway, to sit outside to feel the ache of my legs and inhale perspective.