Bus Report #53
Easy commute today. I think the kids of San Francisco are on spring vacation. No kids on the bus at all except babies. This morning the 38 driver I like stopped the bus right in front of me. We said hi to each other. Down on Fillmore, we had a 22 driver I had never seen before. I sat across from the raccoon eye girl and the horrible haircut girl. The bus flew down Fillmore, not having to stop at any of the stops where the kids usually get on. I had a seat to myself until Mission. Even at that stop, only about four people got on. I got to work early and had extra time to settle in, which was nice because I am still feeling less than perfect.
This afternoon, after a trying day, I took the 33 Stanyan home. The light is starting to change since it’s Spring. Everything looked golden and clearer. Guys crouched around displays of bootleg CDs and DVDs in the Mission. Approaching the Castro, two men who had not seen each other in a while waved and smiled at each other, then came together for a kiss. Up the hill to Twin Peaks I noticed some streets I’d never seen before: Mono, near the bus turn off, and Pemberton, which was a well-lit stairway that winds it’s way straight up the side of a hill. On 18th, a pink house with layered cardboard covering the windows. The cardboard looked wet. It was creepy.
There were buskers on Haight Street. A pair of gutter punks walked their dogs, the puppy on a leash holding the leash of the mutt walking in front of her.
I got off the bus on Geary.
Siam Thai Noodle Geary has been closed for a few weeks, with the front of the store boarded up. I stopped in front to read a sign posted in the window. I was taken aback by what it said: Siam Thai Noodle Geary is closed because of the car that crashed into the store, we will be doing the fixing and reopen soon thank you.
I was taken aback to say the least. At 10th Avenue I waited for the light and inhaled the delicious smell of baking bread from the Boudin Bakery. Across the street the yippy sweater dogs and their owner (excuse me, owner/guardian) headed home, the awful dogs biting and barking at each other as they went.
Tonight I rode the 33 again. Someone’s beer can had spilled on the floor and the can was rolling around, so the bus smelled sour and I kept my feet up on the rail of the seat in front of me so I wouldn’t get them all beery.
I was surprised (very, very surprised!) to see British-Look Guy getting on my bus. And then sitting next to me. I stole glances every few minutes and he barely moved at all. When we turned on to Mission, there was some sort of Police and Ambulance action and a lot of people were watching. We missed it but as we drove past he turned all the way around, knees on the seat to check it out. Two blocks later two women standing at a produce stand were whipping apples, oranges and tomatoes at each other, while people tried to stop them and other people across the street watched. I started to laugh. No one on my bus noticed until we had gone completely past the food fight. Then a couple of people started pointing and turning.
British-Look Guy got out on Castro. My new seat mate was quite tall and hefty. He took up most of our seat but I did not mind. I was cold and he was warm. There’s something oddly comforting about that, but unsettling at the same time. A warm stranger. Hmmm… I was cold again when he got off the bus at Waller.