fragments

the rain falling from the uniformly grey sky makes me feel closer to london. two cop cars in the university street tunnel, one unmarked, dark blue. their drivers standing in between the bus lanes, engaged in conversation, their presence absolutely obvious. an elderly sikh man in a turban gets off a bus and waits for another. i feel guilty for wondering how many suspicious eyes he will elicit today. at westlake, a uniformed officer steps on the bus, looks around. he gets off at convention place. evidently terrorists wouldn't strike outside the bus tunnel. i feel an emotion unfamiliar in the presence of law enforcement: slight reassurance.
seattle would be a terrible place to stage an attack, anyway, there's no political value in it, not since '99 anyway. for once i feel a bit glad at the inadequacies of our public transportation, a bit safer that we have no subway.
the bus takes eastlake instead of getting on the freeway. i wonder why.
and on the way back, between the westlake station and university street, the bus stops cold. no announcement from the driver, no apparent reason, just stopped in the middle of the tunnel. ten minutes later it starts again. no explanation.
honestly, i'm more worried about kim jong-il and his rogue nukes, or even mother nature and her volcanoes, but