Running "The Gauntlet"

A week has passed without an article to satisfy those of you who eagerly await the arrival of the Mister Sketchee truck every day. I have been hurriedly trying to find employment in D.C., and sadly without internet access for much of the week. To atone for my lethargy, I offer an expanded, action-packed evening to begin what promises to be a full week.

First off, my meanderings in the District left ample time for consultation with Mr. Halfz. Fans of his will no doubt have seen my explanation (circuitous as it was) of the Mr. S. moniker. I was promptly chastised by the Editor in Chief for linking to this communist rag, but the transgression was necessary for readers to comprehend the reference to "NOISE," though I suppose in the context of the story a lowercase rendition of that word would have sufficed.

At any rate, John and I were able to put such matters behind us quickly, as I tucked in to my Jerk Chicken and he his Goat meat; I'm not sure of the name of the Columbia Heights restaurant where we found these items, but I'm certain he would be able to furnish it readily. Soon after our meal, we set about recreating our entire high school basketball team in ESPN NBA 2005. This will seem to the uninitiated perhaps a somewhat ludicrous and self-indulgent task, but the thrill of assigning each player's attributes (hairstyle, body type, sock length, accoutrements, etc.) was nearly too hilarious for either of us to bear.

To explain: some of our former teammates were rendered with near-perfect accuracy, the only remarkable difference between their digital and 17-year-old selves being about three or four inches of height each. Others, however, were made into unlikely caricatures of what we imagined they might look like now, half a decade later. Many sported gaudy tattoos and comically improbable sneakers or protective goggles. While a full rundown of all the players would be tedious indeed, I recommend that you imagine performing a similar exercise with a sports team of your youth, or even a particularly memorable math or tap-dance class.

Unfortunately, many of the more elaborate hairdos could not be correctly rendered onscreen during regular gameplay, appearing as they should only in close-up views and replays. The digital version of me, for example, was designed to wear a Steve Nash-style, sweaty vampire 'do, but appeared instead to have a large afro from most angles. One of our power forwards was styled after a 10-year old version of himself, with an enormous flattop; unfortunately, it appeared short-cropped most of the time, as it had when he played for our team.

I will spare you the details of how the ensuing 29-game season has been playing out. Suffice it to say that the Steamer Fever is back, and everyone is catching it. And the day's activity was recounted merrily of the evening, at Mr. H's favorite haunt, Ghana Cafe. I can now join him in extolling the virtues of the place, and especially its delightful owner, Tony. More visits can surely be expected in the near future.

And here comes the first of what are sure to be several awkward transitions in this story (and those that will follow)... Those of you who are learning of fashionable D.C. nightlife and cuisine through either this site or our friendly neighbor but live in the NYC area need not curse the unreasonably high train fare. An array of independent bus companies offer daily service in both directions (there are also regular departures for Boston, Philadelphia, and various Indian territories).

Now, since many of my friends know of my frequent travel on the eastern seaboard I am often asked about the merits of these bus lines, which are generally referred to generically as "The Chinatown Bus." Seasoned travelers will recognize this as an inadequately precise and rather whimsical name for the various firms involved. There are, after all, at least four major D.C. routes alone: Dragon Coach, Today's Bus, Vamoose, and Eastern. (All ticket, route, and schedule information is available at ivymedia.com.)

All of these, save Vamoose, travel from Chinatown N.Y. (arriving and departing along East Broadway under the Manhattan Bridge) to Chinatown D.C. (7th & H, 6th & Eye). The Vamoose buses leave N.Y. from the 32nd Street side of Penn Station/Madison Square Garden (at 8th Avenue) and return to 42nd Street (at 7th); the same buses use 14th between H & Eye as their D.C. hub. As of this writing, all of the companies charge $20 one-way, $35 roundtrip.

As for the quality of each of these services, Vamoose wins on both comfort and reliability (although today I found that the morning D.C. departure had been cancelled, much to my dismay). During one week, I was able to see the film "13 Going on 30" three times. At other times, the driver who identifies himself over the loudspeaker only as "Jones" introduces more adventurous titles, which have included "Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse" and "A Few Good Men" (on Jones' bus, a military tone pervades, but this extends also to the punctuality of his runs). All in all, the experience is pleasant regardless of the card of movies, and is crowded generally only on Friday and Sunday evenings.

The rest of the services -- those more aptly called "Chinatown" buses per se -- range from marginally acceptable to utterly terrible. It is not uncommon on any of these lines to witness the driver making random roadside stops to discharge or pick up passengers. Today's Bus (which I rode today, making this tale particularly intricate) made an unscheduled call at its stop in Philadelphia, only to drive along local streets nearly 20 miles into New Jersey, at one point stopping on an exit ramp so the driver could answer a passing man's question. If he was asking about the price -- I don't speak Cantonese, so I couldn't tell -- he was unsatisfied with the answer and he continued on his way, in an area with no sidewalk whatsoever.

Similar experiences are sure to be found on any of the other Chinatown buses: The late 1970s vintage of the coaches, the rare and seldom convenient rest stops, and the fantastically bad smells are traits common to all of them. (Vamoose always stops, and always at the same rest area, giving a hint of sanity to the trip.)

Before I drone on for too long, I should take just a moment to tie all of this information in to the above image, which is the poster art from Clint Eastwood's "The Gauntlet" (1977), one of the strangest films I have ever seen. Without giving a full synopsis, all I can say is that if I drove one of the D.C. buses, this is the movie I would show my passengers.