Being a recounting of my of apartment issues, I am including an image of the Fung-wah Bus Sign because, truth be told, it perfectly sums up the last four years of my life.  I gave Boston all of three months to capture my attention until surrendering to the allure of the $15, often 3-hour ride (depending on how much speed the friendly Asian driver had taken that day) to NYC. By the end of my college career I actually had two of the head Fung-wah coordinators programmed into my phone, so that any time I was running late I could ask them to hold the bus. Since I usually traveled during odd hours they likely appreciated the extra cash.

Business practices aside, I find their sign rather suspect-”Permitted by Federal Highway Administration.” What exactly do they mean by saying “permitted”? Import noodles by the wagonloads, race down the highway switching lanes like a two-seater, solicit customers in the bus terminal by waving Chinese-inscribed tickets in their faces? We all know that Fungwah is one shady establishment. Nonetheless, they remain a staple for the college crowd, people like me who frequently “miss the train” (sorry Dad, desperate times).

In the end, I have the entire Fung-wah crew to thank for my ability to sustain a social life in NY and write my column, all the while living in B-town. Even if there was that disturbing, mid-highway breakdown, I’m a firm believer in giving credit where credit is due.

Friday <-> Sunday / Boston <-> New York was my saving grace, what yours?