Bus Report #227
Snapshots of bus people (in words, not photos. Because really, wouldn't that ruin your idea of who everyone is, in your head?)
Nicolai
I've seen him about 5 times this week, once on the weekend while we were walking opposite directions down 6th Ave. We said hi. The other day he told me his car had gotten hit, again, up on Anza. Poor guy.
Carmen
I saw Carmen on the 22 Fillmore last week, but she didn't see me. She looked tired and suddenly a little bit old. It was alarming. When the crowd thinned a little, I called out her name. She looked over.
"What are you doing on the bus so late?" I asked her.
"I was teaching a dance class," she told me.
No wonder she was tired.
Ebony
We keep missing each other. Either I'm getting on a bus and she's walking, or I'm walking and she's getting on a bus. She waves, calls out, "See you later, sis!" or something like that. It's sweet. Maybe we'll be on the same bus later.
The Handsome South Asian Chef
This morning our 22 was late and crowded. The driver never had control of the herds of passengers trying to crowd on. The Handsome South Asian Chef sat across the aisle from me. He coughed, per usual. I wondered if he worked in a smoky kitchen or something. He played with his cell phone, but kept his palm curved over the top of the phone so no one could see what he was doing. We were both mad about the late bus. I'd check my watch, suck my teeth and shake my head. He'd check his phone, sigh, and roll his eyes.
Liam (AKA British Look Guy)
I was on a crowded 33 the other night, on my way to hear Dishwasher Pete read from his new book. We were just passing Folsom when I saw a stick-thin man kind of... I don't know how to describe it other than bobbing down the street.
It was Liam.
He has the strangest walk. It's a cross between jumping and rising out of your shoes. And this is a man who wears securely tied boots. It was a nice sighting, since I hadn't seen him in a while.
Compulsive Man
I don't have a name for this man, other than Compulsive Man. He is obviously developmentally disabled and has a lot of weird obsessions/compulsions, most of which involve straws and stirrers from Peet's or else the little cardboard cups for ketchup from Mickey D's. This man is harmless. He is often on the bus, and other than needing to sit in the back of the bus, he is a fine commuter.
Apparently, yesterday's bus driver didn't think so.
She wouldn't let him on, even went so far as to tell everyone at Mission Street: "Don't let that man on. He is not allowed on this bus. You, please hold him back until everyone else is on."
Huh? Really?
That wasn't right, at all. If she does it again, I'm calling MUNI.
Nicolai
I've seen him about 5 times this week, once on the weekend while we were walking opposite directions down 6th Ave. We said hi. The other day he told me his car had gotten hit, again, up on Anza. Poor guy.
Carmen
I saw Carmen on the 22 Fillmore last week, but she didn't see me. She looked tired and suddenly a little bit old. It was alarming. When the crowd thinned a little, I called out her name. She looked over.
"What are you doing on the bus so late?" I asked her.
"I was teaching a dance class," she told me.
No wonder she was tired.
Ebony
We keep missing each other. Either I'm getting on a bus and she's walking, or I'm walking and she's getting on a bus. She waves, calls out, "See you later, sis!" or something like that. It's sweet. Maybe we'll be on the same bus later.
The Handsome South Asian Chef
This morning our 22 was late and crowded. The driver never had control of the herds of passengers trying to crowd on. The Handsome South Asian Chef sat across the aisle from me. He coughed, per usual. I wondered if he worked in a smoky kitchen or something. He played with his cell phone, but kept his palm curved over the top of the phone so no one could see what he was doing. We were both mad about the late bus. I'd check my watch, suck my teeth and shake my head. He'd check his phone, sigh, and roll his eyes.
Liam (AKA British Look Guy)
I was on a crowded 33 the other night, on my way to hear Dishwasher Pete read from his new book. We were just passing Folsom when I saw a stick-thin man kind of... I don't know how to describe it other than bobbing down the street.
It was Liam.
He has the strangest walk. It's a cross between jumping and rising out of your shoes. And this is a man who wears securely tied boots. It was a nice sighting, since I hadn't seen him in a while.
Compulsive Man
I don't have a name for this man, other than Compulsive Man. He is obviously developmentally disabled and has a lot of weird obsessions/compulsions, most of which involve straws and stirrers from Peet's or else the little cardboard cups for ketchup from Mickey D's. This man is harmless. He is often on the bus, and other than needing to sit in the back of the bus, he is a fine commuter.
Apparently, yesterday's bus driver didn't think so.
She wouldn't let him on, even went so far as to tell everyone at Mission Street: "Don't let that man on. He is not allowed on this bus. You, please hold him back until everyone else is on."
Huh? Really?
That wasn't right, at all. If she does it again, I'm calling MUNI.
posted by Rachel at 12:18 PM
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