Bus Report #347

Easy commute this morning.
I waited for the 38 while reading Be Near Me by Andrew O'Hagan. He's so good.
The bus flagger arrived, mouth open and arm frantically trying to flag down the Limited.
The smiley driver pulled up and I got on. We exchanged knowing glances and she smiled.
A matronly woman was reading a Russian newspaper. Next to her, a tiny woman with a bad perm studied a Chinese take out menu.
I waited at Fillmore by myself.
A flock of pigeons rooted around in a disgusting pile of trash. Most alarmingly, the majority of the trash was eggshells, which the birds picked up and cast aside in their search for something to eat.

The bus came and was fairly empty. The only regulars were the catfish face man and some of the day laborers and sewing ladies.

I got out at Potrero and went for my coffee, then walked the rest of the way.
I watched a man scale the fence outside of Il Pirata, not to get into the restaurant but to get out of the back patio. I think he may have slept there under one of the tables or something.
It was unusual to say the least.