Colfax Westward: Downing

It's almost eight at night when I board the 15. It's relatively empty. I find a seat next to a heavy white woman with a skater hoodie and an off-brand mp3 player.

The Ethiopian man sitting across the aisle has a hole the size of a matchbox in the top of his loafer, and a brand new black and shiny HP laptop on his lap. He's not looking at anyone, but carefully pressing in the keys as if unlocking a safe.

The man and woman in the seat behind me speak loudly. I've caught them in the middle of their conversation, and can't quite get the full of extent of their words. She says incredulously, "People say, 'So you're Spanish then, ey?' and I say, 'I speak Spanish. I also speak German. What languages do you speak?'" When she says "Spanish," the whole weight of the word rests on the 'a', and comes out with a distinct, deeply felt and sufficiently strong accent. 'Spawn-eesh.' I don't once turn around to see their faces.

I'm headed West, which means the bus just gets more and more crowded as we near downtown. The two behind me exit the bus, and are replaced by a mother and her two young daughters. One is five at the most, and the other looks to be three. The older sits by herself next to the window, watching things happen outside, and the younger is distracted by everything on the bus. She can't stand sitting still, wants to walk all over, and her mother becomes more and more irritated by her constant need to move around. She wants her young daughter to behave and shut-up and stay put. She wants her daughter to listen to her mother. Wants her daughter to do it because she said it should be so. She threatens with more spanking, and the daughter instantly becomes demure and quiet. The girl answers her mother that, No, she doesn't want another slap on her butt.

The mother says, "Did you see that man get off the bus and scream at it? He got off just now, and screamed 'Shut up!' at the bus. It was too loud for him on here because of people like you. He's crazy. That's why you be quiet on the bus. You don't want to upset a crazy person."

I decide not to turn around when she spanks the three year old again. Decide not to take over completely raising them. I decide to behave and shut-up and stay put. I decide not to upset a crazy person.

Stop One: Colfax and Milwaukee

The bus stop nearest my house is always cold. No bench, just the signpost and a small wind shelter. The stop stands in front of an empty fenced yard near a dirt-bag weekly motel, thirty feet from the liquor store which Chris says sells good cheap wine. Frat boy bar directly across the street.

The bus schedule is always about ten minutes off, but I check it anyway. I want to know there's a bus coming. At all. Time doesn't really seem to matter. I want the reassurance that a bus will come.

The homeless man with the oxygen tank seems to know when to expect me, and has already begun his conversation with me before I arrive. I feel rude ignoring him, even though I don't want to listen, and I know he's talking in circles. He points in the direction of the bus, but the bus isn't coming. He's got a heavy pot belly, and holds the rim of the blue metal trash can to stabilize himself while pointing.

Standing at this stop, I imagine the passing drivers in their cars think I'm a prostitute. But that's only because this is Colfax, and I'm standing near the edge of the street, waiting for something to happen. On Thursday a man in a white hatchback pulled over and asked if I needed a ride. I said no, and he asked if I'd ever done any modeling. Would I be interested, he wants to know?

This is not my favorite bus stop, but there's something strangely safe about standing out on Colfax. That street is raw. Unprotected. It's open and exposed and there are always people walking around. Nothing feels covered. The street seems to open up on either side, to the north and south of this city. Colfax is our spine.