I was glad to see the bus coming down the street. The bus to the airport only runs once an hour at this time of the morning, and I'd already been waiting for a half hour. If you've never spent any time on the streets of downtown Seattle in early morning, it's a pretty motley assortment of shifty panhandlers, homeless folks bedding down for the night, and drunk & restless barhoppers dumped onto the streets by Seattle's 2am closing time. I'd flown up to Seattle to see Armin van Buuren play at The Last Supper Club, and the lack of a car left me dependent on the bus. So I waited at the 2nd Ave & James St bus stop, listening to drunk frat boys yelling obscenities at each other and bums muttering to themselves. The bus was a welcome sight.
Halfway to the airport, I was starting to nod off when an argument erupted just behind me. It was between a guy who'd been dozing when I boarded and another guy who got on more recently. Although I didn't understand everything they said, they apparently knew each other, one owed the other money, and they weren't expecting to see each other on the bus. As the argument grew more heated, nobody looked back. Neither did I. The bus driver didn't say a word. Both protagonists were apparently standing up, as one pushed the other into the back of my seat. I was just hoping that if it got too violent, it'd involve fists and not a knife - or worse yet, a gun.
Logic and restraint carried the day; both sides quieted down and settled into seats opposite each other, muttering under their breaths. The second the bus stopped at the airport, I bolted.
Incidentally, the show was really good, so I'm still glad I went. But next time I head to Seattle for a show that gets out at 2am, I think I'll just drive.