A number of years ago I took a shot at the suburbs, marriage and all that. While it was a great experience, the relationship ended sooner than I had hoped for a variety of reasons. When it ended, an amicable parting let her return to Southern roots while I held on to the house for a few months while it was sold. I was looking forward to returning to my old bachelor digs with a view of the harbor near downtown, which I had rented out. Before I moved back to town, however, I met Missy.
In Seattle, unlike the South and much of the East, the bus is a perfectly acceptable form of middle-class transportation. During my time in the north suburbs the same cast of characters rode with me every day. Some of them were lawyers and accountants, some were secretaries and other administrative types, and a little bit of everything else that worked in or near downtown Seattle.
Most of the riders seemed to have their own spot on the bus, sitting in the same area day after day. I typically rode toward the back. This seemed to be the least crowded and offered the most promise of sitting without someone beside you. The bus afforded an opportunity to read and rest (no smart phones, only early flips), although it still took a good hour before reaching the house.
One Tuesday afternoon in late January, 1995, Seattle had one of its infrequent snow storms. The city gets a good one every ten years or so. However, the north suburbs lie in the "convergence zone." The Olympic Mountains split weather systems that follow the winds from the Hawaii area. The two branches reunite in North King and South Snohomish counties. When the branches come together the air rises, and when air rises it cools, and cool air cannot hold as much moisture. Hence, the convergence zone has more rain in the summer and snow in the winter. There are days where downtown Seattle is sunny but you can see black clouds dumping rain 20 miles to the north.
For those denizens who live in Everett, Lynnwood, or my home, Mill Creek, snow is an annual occurrence. This Tuesday, the temperature had cooled off but the snow in downtown was very light, mixed with rain and was not sticking. I knew the forecast for Everett was for up to three inches of snow so I was trying to get out of the office as soon as I could.
Work, however, intervened and I was stuck trying to catch the final express home at 6:40 p.m. This bus is usually an older bus that seats about 40 people, while peak services are usually in bending buses that seat 60 or more. It was around freezing, and the snow was starting to stick. I was glad to have my heavy, long wool topcoat over my sportcoat, dress shirt and slacks. The bus was about twenty minutes late, unusual for Community Transit, which usually runs on time or close to it unless there is a problem with traffic. By now I was thinking it was going to be a long ride home.
The back of the bus was mostly full, which was unusual, so I grabbed the last window seat toward the middle. Just as the bus started to pull away from the curb someone started to pound on the back door. The bus stopped to let on the final passenger before we hit I-5 northbound. Although there were a number of empty aisle seats toward the middle of the bus, for some reason the last person on picked the seat next to me. It was Missy.
I had met her well over a year before. Missy, which I assumed to be a nickname for Melissa, was a projects manager for a large Seattle law firm. We had met over casual conversation on the bus or at the stop one day. I knew her to be about my age but she had two sons in their early teens. Missy had been divorced several years before but was set up financially by her ex in a nice house with few material needs (she even received a 16 unit apartment building).
She was of average height, about five feet four inches tall. Her most prominent feature, in my mind, was a little cute turned up nose, set on an oval face. Missy's hair was mousy brown and usually worn fairly short, cut mid-neck with a little natural wave in it. Her fair skin carried the remnant of a summer tan. Most of the time Missy favored baggy clothes (classic Seattle look), including oversized dresses cut long to the ankles or just above them with lots of woolens in the winter. I don't think I had ever seen Missy with a tight belt, tight shirt or short skirt. Whether she was conservative or just convinced that her figure wasn't good enough to show off I wasn't sure. In any event, Missy's face, arms and hands indicated that she was slender underneath it all.
Missy was surprised to see that she had sat down beside me. I had been traveling a lot and had not seen her in several months. Missy unbuttoned the front of her coat, which was surprisingly light for the weather. She was wearing her trademark long dress, a flower print that was tailored but not belted. I commented to her about the light coat. She said she had been in a rush that morning because her boys left with a school group for a gathering of young leaders in Portland.
Missy remarked that she was looking forward to a few days with an empty house. As the bus slowed in the traffic when it crossed the ship canal, I told her not to hold her breath as it might take a while to get home. Traffic slowed further to a crawl as we headed north. Snow was sticking by Northgate, five miles north of downtown. The trees were starting to hold some flakes. We chatted about our work, our frustrations and our lives. It was quite a pleasant chat. After twenty or so minutes we were chatted out. The bus continued in stop and go traffic, more stop at times than go.
The bus had warmed up from the heater. Missy yawned once or twice, then asked me to excuse her while she closed her eyes for a minute. I told her that I didn't mind and would close mine as well. I couldn't sleep. Missy drifted off for a few minutes. Her head bobbed a few times, then lay onto my right shoulder. I had the sense that she had been stressed by work and family. We continued slowly northward for another few miles until the bus started down an off ramp. The driver came on the p.a. system and told us that there had been an accident further north, closing I-5. We were going to try the side streets, which were now covered with snow. Missy somehow slept through all of this.
About thirty minutes later we had made it another five miles, nearing Lynnwood. Traffic sucked. We would wait three or four cycles to get through each light. Huge wet snowflakes coated everything. Some of the cars parked alongside the road had at least an inch of snow on them. I knew the further we went north the worse it would be. I could see that the side streets were icing and noticed the bus beginning to have some trouble staying on the road. At about this time I felt the bus skid once as it slowed to a light. That woke Missy up. She raised her head, becoming aware that it had been resting on my shoulder.
"What's going on?"
"The freeway is closed so he is trying the surface streets. But it's getting icy here too. We're just south of the mall and it's getting worse." Missy said nothing.
The bus continued to slip and slide on the road. We watched as cars spun out, one going up on a lawn. "I think we better stop this bus soon or else we're in trouble" I said.
Silently, Missy took my hand and held it tight. The adventure continued for only a few more minutes. This time the bus slid a bit too much. The driver stopped, then gingerly pulled forward into a parking lot of a strip center. He came on the p.a. "Folks, I hate to say this but I don't think we can go any further tonight. You can see how bad it is outside and I just don't have any control. There are several motels up there. Why don't we all walk up together and get warm and dry. I've heard on the radio that there are a bunch of people on other Community Transit buses stuck like you."
"Lovely" I said. Everyone stood up, buttoned their coats, and put on hats and gloves. I didn't have a hat but I had gloves. Missy had neither. "It's not too far, why don't you take my gloves, your coat is lighter than mine," I offered.
"Thanks," she said softly, looking concerned at the walk ahead of us. Missy had on nice black leather flats with no stockings. I knew her feet would be freezing by the time we got to the motel.
"I'll help you get there. With those shoes you will be all over the road like this bus."
Missy smiled for the first time in a while. Missy and I trudged through the snow toward two motels that were about a quarter mile ahead. Missy's feet were covered with snow but at least she wasn't slipping. We walked as fast as we could but it still took a good ten minutes to walk there.
