Everybody Fung Wah Tonight

Well, it looks as if I am managing a second visit to the wonderful, soothing environment of the CUNY library. I can see Graham in the corner reading probably the Washington Post, still wearing his peacoat. I say this with absolute honesty, and not a smidgen of drama, he is friggn' ADORABLE.

I came here to wrangle an e-ticket for the Chinatown Express bus bound for Boston. I'm off to see BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN in concert tonight with my dear friend Kathryn. The Chinatown Express--otherwise known as Fung Wah Bus Lines--is the cheapest way to travel--only $30 smackers to go to Boston and back. It's also cheap for a reason--no frills, no kindness, no cute logo of a dog running or a green clad Peter Pan along the side of the bus. It's literally, get on and shut up. And although I've never had any issues thus far, you have this feeling they should say to you "Enter at Your Own Risk." When I talked to Kathryn and told her of my travel plans, she informed me that Fung Wah recently has been afflicted with fires.

"Fires? As in plural?" I asked.
"Yeah, like two or three in the last month or two." She said, as if the ominous information was nothing but a bag of laundry she was tossing off. "Well, see you tomorrow!"

I debated whether or not to take the cute dog line of a bus, just for safety sake. I mean, this is Bruce Springsteen we are talking about--I don't want to be delayed because I'm stuck on the Pike waving down a fire truck. Then, I considered the fact that I haven't worked all week--as in the making money kind of work--and the saving $70 round trip, kind seemed like a good idea.

So, maybe I should say, I am TRYING to go to Boston to see Bruce Springsteen; or I am going to ATTEMPT to go to Boston to see Bruce Springsteen. Nay, I am riding on a WILD HOPE that I will make it to Bruce Springsteen.

I'll say hello for you.