In a friendly Seattle suburb oddly named White Center, the #60 and #128 buses both stop in front of a shuttered Rite-Aid, across the street from a Walgreens that’ll be shuttered at the end of the month. I was waiting for a #60, so of course the #128 came first.

A not-quite old lady a quarter-block away wanted that bus, and shouted, “Wait, wait!” as she ran along the sidewalk waving her arms. I was rooting for her, but it’s 50/50 — some bus drivers wait, while others delight in closing the doors and pulling away.

The lady’s heel caught on a crack in the concrete, and down she went.

Ever since a wild ride on the #128 a year ago, I’ve tried to be a better bus citizen. When there’s an argument, I’ll say a word or two in defense of the underdog. When someone seems lost, I’ll offer my bus-system expertise. When a bum drops a shoplifted can of beer and it rolls down the aisle, I’ll return it to him.

I didn’t help that lady up, though. Two strangers were already asking if she was OK and gently pulling her to her feet. She was all “Thank you,” but insisting she was fine, and my presence would’ve only added to the chaos.

A small crowd had been waiting, and the last of them was getting onto the bus, so the fallen lady started hollering, “Wait, wait!” again, and hurry-hobbling along. She was still behind the bus, though, so I sprang into action like a gallant knight, waddled to the bus’s front door, and said to the driver, “There’s a lady coming.”

“Yeah,” he said, “I’ve been watching in my side-view. Is she drunk, or just clumsy?”

“Just clumsy, I think.”

The driver waited, and in another 15 seconds or so the lady was there, climbed up and on. For fear of seeing her topple again, the driver waited while the lady found a seat. Then the bus rolled away, and I wondered whether the driver would’ve waited if I’d answered “Drunk.”

♦ ♦ ♦

White Center sounds like a sunset town, but the name isn’t racist. It was settled a century+ ago by George White & Hiram Green, who flipped a coin to determine the town’s name. It just as easily could’ve been Green Center.

♦ ♦ ♦

Another day, another bus. Four boys, 14-16, stepped on, sat together in the seats in front of me and across the aisle, and I hated them already.

This has happened a thousand times, maybe ten thousand times. Kids that age, especially boys, with no adult supervision, are guaranteed to be rowdy, talking and joking and otherwise unpleasant all the way. The whole ride would be tense, and possibly there’d be an argument.

At least, that’s the way it was in the 1970s, ’80s, ’90s, 2000s, and 2010s. On this particular day in 2025, though, each young ruffian pulled out a cellphone soon as they’d sat, and silently scrolled for miles. Then one of them rang the bell and they all stepped off the bus. They’d been no bother at all.

The quiet was better for my ride and mood, but worse for humanity. Now I’m worried: Boys that age are supposed to be obnoxious; it’s part of growing up. If boys 14-16 aren’t obnoxious, what kind of warped adults will they become?

♦ ♦ ♦

On a different afternoon, I was riding the #60 bus through Georgetown and South Park, when we picked up a few passengers at a bus stop that’s been spray-painted “KILL ICE,” all caps and in quite large letters.

Let me once again boringly insert that I’m opposed to violence, but seeing the graffiti brightened my afternoon. And it was impossible not to notice that several consecutive bus stops had been graffitied with the same phrase, presumably by the same fine artist.

Many people object to graffiti on grounds that it’s vandalism, and uglification of the cityscape. I am not many people. My opinion is that most graffiti adds color and life to otherwise bland walls and public spaces. I don’t object unless the graffiti is spreading hate, but hating ICE doesn’t count, on the same principle that it’s never wrong to punch a Nazi.

“Live and let live” is a fine credo, and everyone from Baptists to pinkos deserves freedom of speech. But it’s societal suicide to give someone a free speech platform to call for an end to free speech. It’s the paradox of tolerance. When someone’s actively rounding up harmless people to ship them to a gulag, that’s where the line must be drawn. Karl Popper said it better than me.

Being a wimp, though, I’d prefer graffiti that said “ARREST ICE.”

8/21/2025

Transit Takes

itsdougholland.com
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