"Sess, weed, bud, transfer?" As we've read in the Times and elsewhere, Metro bus driver Rickie Beavers was arrested this week for selling crack while on the job. Or, to put it differently, he was interrupting his regular job, selling crack, to drive bus passengers from downtown to Rainier Beach. Cops busted him at the south end of the No. 42 line, and King County charges are expected soon.
This raises many questions. What are the lines for riders interested in buying other drugs? Which route, for instance, should pot-heads ride?Stoners dig mass transit. Traffic is, like, so totally stressful when you're behind the wheel. How can a guy simultaneously drive, toke, and find that excellent Phish '98 concert set on his iPod? It's dangerous, dude. Also, lovers of the green are generally greenies, pro-environment types who recognize how global warming could affect their favorite crop. For this reason, we suggest Metro Route 74 as the likeliest stoner commuter line. It connects the Seattle Center (home of Bumbershoot and Folk Life, say no more) to Fremont and the U District before finally, gently coming to rest at Magnuson Park, where you can commune with nature, stare at the water, and laugh at the ducks. Did you ever notice ducks? They're funny, man.
Or maybe you prefer the beautiful narcotic oblivion of opiates. Heroin, like traffic, ebbs and flows in Seattle. In vogue during the grunge era, it declined in popularity for a while. But now, thanks to our U.S. intervention in Afghanistan, opium prices have never been lower. The heroin shopper-commuter wants a long bus route that allows plenty of time for fixing and napping. He wants his driver-dealer to give him some space, preferably at the end of one of those long slinky buses. That's why we recommend the Route 174, which take a long meandering route up from Federal Way via Pacific Highway South (score!) to downtown, where you can pawn your mother's jewelry. Also, they don't judge you in Federal Way.
But maybe you're looking for the energy and pick-me-up power necessary to hold down three jobs, clean the bathroom with your tooth brush, and rebuild your sister's 1983 Camaro engine over the weekend. Meth is the drug you want. Don't say the 10 or the 7 or the 11, though crystal meth has surely made inroads on Capitol Hill. If you want the good stuff, the stuff that keeps you up late (or gets you up early, though the days do tend to blur together), that means going rural, to the exurban meth-brewing factories and trailer parks. That means the Maple Valley's Route 143, which shuttles via Renton (where you've been totally meaning to beat up this dude who looked at you the wrong way) from the crystal moss belt near Black Diamond into downtown Seattle. You know what's fun to do on the 143? Count the telephone poles while you're staring out the window, grinding your teeth, and thinking of people you'd like to get even with. There are 3,021 of them. Poles, not people. (The latter number is much higher. And stop looking at me like that.)
The transportation needs of street alcoholics are beyond the parameters of this post. It is well known that Ballard's Routes 15 and 18 constitute the Wino Express.
And for shroom hunters in search of the finest hallucinogens? That means a sea voyage, and an entirely different transportation network: Washington State Ferries to the Kitasp Peninsula, whose mossy forest floors await your trip.