Bus Report #133
This morning, I left the house a moment later than usual and watched a 38 Geary, my 38 Geary, roll by without me.
The woman with the awful dogs came around the corner while I waited for the next bus. The dogs were both in sweaters, biting at each other and jumping.
I stepped all the way into the bus shelter to avoid them.
A few minutes later, after an uneventful 38 Geary ride, about fifteen of us waited for a 22 Fillmore headed towards Potrero. In the space of about four minutes, three 22s and one 1 California came in the opposite direction, one right after another.
To add insult to injury, a few minutes after their caravan of buses departed, a straggler came by.
My 22 Fillmore was late, packed, and the driver would not let us in through the back the way they usually do when loading or unloading a wheelchair. Luckily, the woman rides the bus all the time and is quite fast at getting her chair in and out. I sat squished against a man reading the newspaper.
The bus got more and more crowded with each stop. I figured at least one bus was late or had never come.
I had backpacks shoved in my face, newspapers opened in my hair, a Shasta Cola can tossed against my shoe.
At my stop, no one would move. I had no choice but to push a couple of people out of the way.
I hope the kids get a vacation soon. It would be a vacation for all of us.