Bus Report #210
This morning I waited at the Fillmore and Geary stop with the handsome South Asian chef, who has a cold. It was really chilly out and I couldn't feel my fingers, so I had my hands shoved as far into my pockets as possible. One of the teens and her mom came to wait with us. The mom has a new hairstyle: she's colored her brown hair auburn and is wearing it loose. I think she's trying to look younger. Not sure yet if it works.
The bus came a few minutes later. It was nice and warm. Carmen was there, and she had saved me a seat. Her favorite middle-schooler sat across from her. I slid into the seat and Carmen and I immediately started gabbing, even as the handsome South Asian chef was trying to say good morning to me.
"Good morning!" I replied, cheerfully. He took the seat right behind us.
Carmen and I caught up on all our usual topics: her work, my work, her family, the people on the bus. Very pleasant. She got out at her usual stop.
A woman with awful perfume came and sat beside me. I coughed. I turned towards the window.
At Mission the bus filled up with more regulars: The man who talks to himself, the mom with the cute little daughter and the super tall son, the woman with the bad dye job, and Emiliano.
Emiliano wore his usual red knit cap and a green army jacket that I haven't seen before. His cold weather gear, perhaps? He held on to the pole and swung his body around as people tried to get by him.
The spineless teen managed to get out at Shotwell, a feat as he is usually too polite and quiet to get out of the bus quick enough to make his stop. Every day I hope he's developed a backbone or at least a sense of urgency, but not yet. Until then, he'll continue to miss his stop at least twice a week.
The bus came a few minutes later. It was nice and warm. Carmen was there, and she had saved me a seat. Her favorite middle-schooler sat across from her. I slid into the seat and Carmen and I immediately started gabbing, even as the handsome South Asian chef was trying to say good morning to me.
"Good morning!" I replied, cheerfully. He took the seat right behind us.
Carmen and I caught up on all our usual topics: her work, my work, her family, the people on the bus. Very pleasant. She got out at her usual stop.
A woman with awful perfume came and sat beside me. I coughed. I turned towards the window.
At Mission the bus filled up with more regulars: The man who talks to himself, the mom with the cute little daughter and the super tall son, the woman with the bad dye job, and Emiliano.
Emiliano wore his usual red knit cap and a green army jacket that I haven't seen before. His cold weather gear, perhaps? He held on to the pole and swung his body around as people tried to get by him.
The spineless teen managed to get out at Shotwell, a feat as he is usually too polite and quiet to get out of the bus quick enough to make his stop. Every day I hope he's developed a backbone or at least a sense of urgency, but not yet. Until then, he'll continue to miss his stop at least twice a week.
posted by Rachel at 8:08 AM
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