I think I'm on the 81. The 81 I'm riding tonight looks a little different. The entire seating section is flat, whereas the rear section of the normal 81 is slightly higher than the front section. The aisles are wider, and the seats are very 70s, a kind of brown and orange velour. I feel like I'm flying Eastern during the Ford Administration.
The woman next to me has a Gatorade bottle in her purse and is intently studying algebraic-looking symbols written on a crumpled napkin. I looked one too many a time at what she was reading so she folded up the napkin and put it away just now.
Holy shit! I think the 81 just made an emergency evasive maneuver. We totally swerved to one side and honked long and hard at someone. We're going really fast on the 110 -- too fast. The 81 sounds like it might blow up, it's being revved so hard.
*Phew* We are off the 110 and onto peaceful Figueroa.
The lighting on the 81 Throwback Edition is a bit more calming than the standard blaring blue white fluorescent light on the normal 81. The light is pleasantly yellow and muted, perhaps by years of grime, scratchiti, and dead insects. Oh, and there are no plasma TVs on this 81.
I'm wearing a suit. The guy across from me is wearing a wife beater. With real dirt on it. Lots of it. The bus is sometimes almost too real. It smells like sweat in here.