Bus Report #352
The 22 Fillmore this morning smelled bad.
The whole ride, I couldn't tell if it was the smell of a fast food breakfast or if someone was having intestinal distress. Gross.
A man with a prosthetic hand got on at Haight. I haven't seen one in a while (a prosthetic hand, that is), so it was interesting.
He didn't seem to have any difficulty with it, it was just a regular hand for him.
When I got to my stop, the girl sitting next to me got up too. She smiled at me, which was unexpected.
I am usually such a zombie in the morning, sometimes I forget that other people are awake and capable of interacting.
I waited at the crosswalk while two postal service employees and the woman with the walker scrambled across the street. They all made the light, but barely.
The whole ride, I couldn't tell if it was the smell of a fast food breakfast or if someone was having intestinal distress. Gross.
A man with a prosthetic hand got on at Haight. I haven't seen one in a while (a prosthetic hand, that is), so it was interesting.
He didn't seem to have any difficulty with it, it was just a regular hand for him.
When I got to my stop, the girl sitting next to me got up too. She smiled at me, which was unexpected.
I am usually such a zombie in the morning, sometimes I forget that other people are awake and capable of interacting.
I waited at the crosswalk while two postal service employees and the woman with the walker scrambled across the street. They all made the light, but barely.
posted by Rachel at 9:45 AM
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