Bus Report #278
Christmas comes to the 38.
I counted several Santa hats yesterday, and people armed with shopping bags from all the Union Square stores.
Conversely, people were still rude and pushy and had no problems knocking me in the head with their purses and backpacks.
This morning the woman who always flags down the bus did it again.
The smiley driver caught my eye as she pulled into the stop and rolled her eyes, and laughed, and pointed to the woman.
When I got on the bus the smiley driver was giggling behind her hand. I laughed, too.
At Fillmore I waited with the always under-dressed-for-the-cold teen and a few of the other regulars. Our bus came and as usual with this slightly mean driver, she stopped far away from where we were all standing and didn't say good morning to us or even acknowledge us.
The kid sitting in front of me had a velour Santa hat on. Hard to put in to words but the way he reached up to pull the signaller, the way his little hand closed around the cord, there was something beautiful in that moment.
I got out the bus at my normal stop and got my coffee, the paper, and started to walk.
A 53 Southern Heights (one of my favorite ghost buses) was about to pull out of the stop at Bryant when a man ran up and started banging on the back of the bus to be let on.
The driver took off and left the guy standing there.
It didn't seem to phase him, though. The guy started walking, talking loudly to himself and then punched a newspaper box.
I crossed the street and there was another guy on my side of the street doing the same thing.
Ah, San Francisco.
I counted several Santa hats yesterday, and people armed with shopping bags from all the Union Square stores.
Conversely, people were still rude and pushy and had no problems knocking me in the head with their purses and backpacks.
This morning the woman who always flags down the bus did it again.
The smiley driver caught my eye as she pulled into the stop and rolled her eyes, and laughed, and pointed to the woman.
When I got on the bus the smiley driver was giggling behind her hand. I laughed, too.
At Fillmore I waited with the always under-dressed-for-the-cold teen and a few of the other regulars. Our bus came and as usual with this slightly mean driver, she stopped far away from where we were all standing and didn't say good morning to us or even acknowledge us.
The kid sitting in front of me had a velour Santa hat on. Hard to put in to words but the way he reached up to pull the signaller, the way his little hand closed around the cord, there was something beautiful in that moment.
I got out the bus at my normal stop and got my coffee, the paper, and started to walk.
A 53 Southern Heights (one of my favorite ghost buses) was about to pull out of the stop at Bryant when a man ran up and started banging on the back of the bus to be let on.
The driver took off and left the guy standing there.
It didn't seem to phase him, though. The guy started walking, talking loudly to himself and then punched a newspaper box.
I crossed the street and there was another guy on my side of the street doing the same thing.
Ah, San Francisco.
posted by Rachel at 12:05 PM
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