Washington, D.C.
It was the stuff urban legends are made of: A phantom bus from Chinatown, D.C. to Chinatown, N.Y. for $10 round trip.
One evening in a Cleveland Park café I'd eavesdropped on someone trying to convince a friend that such a bus existed. Neither of us were convinced. Being the kind of person that tacitly prides himself on finding the best deal around when it comes to all things travel related, I figured there was no way some nickel-and-dime midnight express was operating in my own backyard. This was too good.
Besides, the deal just didn't add up. A one-way ticket on Greyhound runs a hefty $60. Cross-town taxi fares typically cost more. Hell, a tank of gas is almost double, and then there's the $15 or so you'll spend on the Jersey tolls, which seems to go toward building more tollbooths.
These facts in hand, I still couldn't shake the idea of a $10 trip to New York. I needed answers, and fast.
I checked with my usual sources, scouring every corner of the Washington City Paper, Washingtonian magazine and The Washington Post online -- I even asked the guy at Peking Take-Out. I googled, too, though admittedly, the word search "Chinese bus DC to New York" didn't seem very promising. Not a single hit. So I went to Chinatown.
D.C.'s Chinatown is the bastard cousin of its counterparts in San Francisco and New York City. It's really just one down-and-out block of H Street, a couple of fledgling dim sum joints tucked between an acupuncture parlor and a health store that sells rhino horn tea powder.
In Chinatown, S.F., you feel like a branch stuck in the middle of a flooded river. No ebb, just flow. The streets pulse with noise and activity: Fishmongers waving fists of octopus; the chorus of dipthongs from old men haggling over soy beans; curbside vendors selling bric-a-brac. Even the air has flair, an olfactory blend of sea brine tinged with the smoke of exploded cherry bombs.
One gets the strange sensation that anything could happen at a given moment. Anything.
A few years back, I was riding a San Fran city bus on Franklin Street, through the heart of Chinatown, when the driver refused to allow a woman on board because she was carrying a live pigeon under her arm. In a memorable display of black humor, the woman snapped the bird's neck right in front of him and took her seat.
That just doesn't happen in Washington, and if it did, no one would see it because everyone is too busy staring at their shoes.
To its credit, D.C. does have the trademark archway framing the entrance to Chinatown (though the crimson paint is faded and the gold accents chipped).
As I rounded the corner from the Gallery Place Metro and passed under the arch to find H Street deserted, it dawned on me that maybe all the Chinese had fled to New York. Who could resist such a trip for only $10?
Then a sign caught my eye. Hanging over the basement of a brick row house, it read "Washington -- New York Express Tours." I walked down a short staircase, which, I was pleased to learn, did not lead to an underground mah jongg parlor. Again, no one was around. According to the sign on the wall, I was also eight hours early, with buses leaving at 2 a.m. and 3:30 a.m.
Then a middle-aged woman emerged from a hallway, catching me off guard as I stared at a fishbowl with a single dead goldfish inside -- belly up.
"Bus
Read More
It’s okay not to be okay
By Mai Hukuoka | 2 days agoWhether talking to a friend, a loved one or a professional, it is so necessary, and human, to need more than you can provide for yourself.
Taking a break at Tangerines Kitchen
By Charley Thomas | 3 days agoWhat the restaurant somewhat lacks in ambiance, it compensates for in tasty dishes and prompt service.
Virginia Policy Lab — a hub for student-led policy action
By Katherine Haden | December 9, 2024Students propose their own projects and collaborate with other members to research their issues of interest, brainstorm solutions and write policy proposals.
