The chinatown bus lines, once privy to restaurant workers shuffling between chinatowns, now loom large in the minds of college and post-college east coast city-hoppers. I, for one, really like taking Fung Wah, which has always been cheap, fast, and convenient. And yet, heading to New York on a Friday afternoon, I always pass snaking Greyhound lines before easily hopping on the next Fung Wah bus. How could this be?

I'm convinced that our subtle, post-racist racism is coming into play. Like China in ages past (and, really, today: think pet food scandal), people get very excited when someone brings up the chinatown bus: Hardened travelers smirk and brag about "roughing it," while many, many others report that "those buses smell bad," or, my favorite, "my sister's friend said that her friend was on a chinatown bus that caught fire. How ridiculous!"

Tomorrow, the rest of my case. Featuring: facts!