Dear Q25 Bus,
Thank you (sincerely) for existing. Without you, I could not have accessed the remotest stop (Flushing-Main St.) of the 7 train into and out of New York City. You even let me have a free transfer to the subway a half hour or more after I boarded you, which, in all fairness, is how long it took you to get me into town even when you were empty. It would take about an hour and a half to get back to you on the 7, but the transfer was always good. Thank you.
Thank you also (sarcastically) for allowing me to witness my first true fight, in which two fat teen hoodlums cornered a spindly, short tweek and beat the shit out of him while half the bus stared in disdainful annoyance at the delayed commute and the other half stared in cruel fascination while I had a nervous breakdown because I thought that the kid was going to have his neck snapped by these thugs who had him in a headlock with his legs dragging on the wet ground outside the back doors.
Just a few questions:
Why, when I arrived back to Flushing after 10 p.m., had you always JUST left? I really tried to match your timing. Then, I would wait and wait for you amongst spitting elders and smoking youth, and sometimes you took over an hour to show up. Doesn't it take an hour to cover the whole loop at that hour when only ten people ride you?
How do you close your windows when it's cold out or if they rattle too hard?
Why does your exhaust kind of smell like maple syrup?
Anyway, I might not visit you again for a while, but I hope the Census of 2010 keeps you around, otherwise I'd predict some serious social problems to erupt at the hands of suckers with no recourse. read more