Bus Report #412
Last night I ran a quick errand in Potrero Hill then waited at the Bryant and 16th stop for the bus. I wanted to take a 33 but the 22 showed up first, so I got on. There was one free seat towards the back, and I got it. I cracked open the windows (it was warm and someone had on bad cologne) and settled in for my ride.
At Church and Market I got a new seatmate, who promptly fell asleep. He kept sort of slumping over close to me, then righting himself, then slumping again.
We spent a lot of time at the Haight Street stop, lots of people getting in and out, stragglers waving us down after getting out of the 7 or 71. We lurched up the hill and passed my old street, old corner store, old coffeeshop.
A car must have been double-parked between Grove and McAllister because we screeched to a halt, and our driver laid on the horn while he swerved around a car.
I thought about getting out at Sutter and taking a 2 or a 3, but I went with the general flow of passengers and got out at Geary. A man behind me on the bus started pushing and saying, "get out of of the way," so I cut my eyes at him and said, "we're all getting out, too." It was mean, but I don't like pushy people.
The first 38L that came was crowded, completely packed, so I waited for the next one.
I sat in the back next to a man with a Red Sox hat and a tote bag I was sure said "Bucksport Farmer's Market", Bucksport being a town in Maine I spent a lot of time in as a kid.
I wanted it to say Bucksport, but when he moved I saw it said "Brockport". Ah, well.
At my stop, I fell in step with a neighbor we'll call Arthur. Arthur is one of those friendly neighborhood guys who is a little nosy and always forgets your name.
"Sharon, right?" he said.
"Rebecca," I replied, a lie but a small one.
At Church and Market I got a new seatmate, who promptly fell asleep. He kept sort of slumping over close to me, then righting himself, then slumping again.
We spent a lot of time at the Haight Street stop, lots of people getting in and out, stragglers waving us down after getting out of the 7 or 71. We lurched up the hill and passed my old street, old corner store, old coffeeshop.
A car must have been double-parked between Grove and McAllister because we screeched to a halt, and our driver laid on the horn while he swerved around a car.
I thought about getting out at Sutter and taking a 2 or a 3, but I went with the general flow of passengers and got out at Geary. A man behind me on the bus started pushing and saying, "get out of of the way," so I cut my eyes at him and said, "we're all getting out, too." It was mean, but I don't like pushy people.
The first 38L that came was crowded, completely packed, so I waited for the next one.
I sat in the back next to a man with a Red Sox hat and a tote bag I was sure said "Bucksport Farmer's Market", Bucksport being a town in Maine I spent a lot of time in as a kid.
I wanted it to say Bucksport, but when he moved I saw it said "Brockport". Ah, well.
At my stop, I fell in step with a neighbor we'll call Arthur. Arthur is one of those friendly neighborhood guys who is a little nosy and always forgets your name.
"Sharon, right?" he said.
"Rebecca," I replied, a lie but a small one.
posted by Rachel at 11:48 AM
5 Comments:
I love the last couple of lines. What is funny is my parents fought the entire pregnancy on what to name me: Rachel or Rebecca.
They settled on Brittney when neither could convince the other.
Too funny! Brittney is neither Rachel or Rebecca, no matter how you slice it...
crap. she's using our bar names on MUNI!!!
Hi Rachel. I ran across your blog do to the reference to Bucksport. I spent the first 23 years or so of my life growing up in the Bucksport area and went to high school in Bucksport. My family is still there as are many of my friends.
Did you grow up there or simply vacation in the area?
Hi, Andy! My family has a place in Penobscot and we spent every summer and most vacations up there... Most of my time was spent running wild in Penobscot, Blue Hill and Castine and down to deer isle and the rest of the peninsula... My brother and I went to Cold Comfort Theater Company summer camp. But my dad always liked going to dinner in Bucksport: Mcleods and the Jed Prouty Inn. My brother and I were freaked out by the witch's boot on the gravestone in the cemetery and we had a few friends from Bucksport but I don't remember their names... They were camp friends.
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