Bus Report #229

Tonight I rode the bus with Ebony, after a false start which found me running back to work for my wallet. I made it back down to the bus stop just in time.
We sat together and gossiped all the way to Market Street.

While I waited for the 38, I jammed on my sunglasses and put on some music.
I was the first person on the 38 when it eventually arrived.
I chose a seat in the back.
The bus filled up by the time we got to Union Square. There were shoppers, workers, teenagers and tourists. Everyone was packed tightly, sardine-like.
The driver skipped a few stops.
As usual, I read the sign at 'My Do Hair Salon' and wondered if it was actually pronounced differently. I peered through the window of the residential hotel near the Castle and looked for the Alien Donut Man. I think he lives there.

The bus emptied out at Fillmore.
At Divisadero, I caught a quick glimpse of the sad drunk boy. He had snuck in through the back.
A moment later I heard him talking on his cell phone. He was talking about work, and he sounded sad. He always does.
When I stood up to leave I saw him sitting a few rows back. He had his eyes closed and was slumped to the side. Even asleep he looked sad.