Bus Report #370
With the arrival of M.C. and P.M., I've had a very bus week/end.
P.M. and I had some good bus luck on Sunday and Monday: we took 38s, 22s, and 43s with no major problems.
Yesterday my bus ride was quiet and uneventful.
This morning I had a bunch of regulars riding with me, and it was nice to see them.
The woman who could be a model, Whitney is what we're going to call her, sat right behind me.
The man with the good-smelling coffee sat in the front, his legs splayed out so no one could sit comfortably next to him.
The catfish face man was by the window, and the neck tattoo woman, recovering addict and guy who gets out at Turk sat in the back.
The guy who gets out at Turk got out at Turk.
At McAllister the young teacher with the comfortable yet unattractive shoes got on (my shoes are not much better, but man, where does she get these ugly clunkers?). She sat down and took a letter out of her bag, unfolded it and started to read.
I watched her, mostly because it's been a while since I saw anyone read a letter. Hell, it's been a while since I've read a letter.
She unfolded the white, unlined paper and began to read. She smiled while she did so, and as she flipped the pages she started to laugh. When she was done, she shook her head, still smiling, and then folded the letter back into its envelope.
The neck tattoo woman got out at Geary, the recovering addict at Mission Street.
I am getting used to seeing them. At first the recovering addict annoyed me with his loud talking and his need to talk to everyone in the back of the bus, but I'm starting to warm up to him. He's doing the best he can, far as I can tell, and you know what? He's not doing too badly. At least, he's not doing too badly on the 22 Fillmore.
P.M. and I had some good bus luck on Sunday and Monday: we took 38s, 22s, and 43s with no major problems.
Yesterday my bus ride was quiet and uneventful.
This morning I had a bunch of regulars riding with me, and it was nice to see them.
The woman who could be a model, Whitney is what we're going to call her, sat right behind me.
The man with the good-smelling coffee sat in the front, his legs splayed out so no one could sit comfortably next to him.
The catfish face man was by the window, and the neck tattoo woman, recovering addict and guy who gets out at Turk sat in the back.
The guy who gets out at Turk got out at Turk.
At McAllister the young teacher with the comfortable yet unattractive shoes got on (my shoes are not much better, but man, where does she get these ugly clunkers?). She sat down and took a letter out of her bag, unfolded it and started to read.
I watched her, mostly because it's been a while since I saw anyone read a letter. Hell, it's been a while since I've read a letter.
She unfolded the white, unlined paper and began to read. She smiled while she did so, and as she flipped the pages she started to laugh. When she was done, she shook her head, still smiling, and then folded the letter back into its envelope.
The neck tattoo woman got out at Geary, the recovering addict at Mission Street.
I am getting used to seeing them. At first the recovering addict annoyed me with his loud talking and his need to talk to everyone in the back of the bus, but I'm starting to warm up to him. He's doing the best he can, far as I can tell, and you know what? He's not doing too badly. At least, he's not doing too badly on the 22 Fillmore.
posted by Rachel at 4:10 PM
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