Bus Report #432

I waited on Potrero for the 33 Stanyan for way, way too long today. I won't say how long, it's too embarrassing, but let's just say it rhymes with almost 'won flour'.
As I waited, I saw E. waiting in the stop too, on his phone up by the corner.
We waved at each other and continued to wait. And wait. And wait.
I called 311 and they said the reason we'd been waiting so long was because a bus had been out of service all day, but she promised the next bus would be there in 6 minutes.
E. waited another 2 minutes and headed towards the 22 stop, pausing in his phone conversation to give me a quick hug.
I could see a bus approaching, stepped into the street, hopefully.
All for nothing. The bus said Garage.
I took off for the 22 stop, getting there just before a 53 and then a 22 pulled into the stop.
E. and I both got on.
I saw a girl I know named Alice. At least, I am pretty sure it was Alice. We said hi.
I sat next to a big guy in Ray-Bans and a linen shirt. He shifted in the seat, grudgingly, and made room for me.
E. and I caught up for a minute, then I spaced out, staring out the window.
My seat mate got out at Mission. I slid over against the window. In the reflection of the greasy plexiglas by the step well I could see my tired reflection over the outline of Alice's head.
I could see E's reflection, too, and the girl sitting behind me.

At Geary I ran to catch a 38.
I sat in front of a woman who spent the whole ride coughing.
The kids in front of me were British (but not Scottish).
We skipped a lot of stops along Geary.
I got home only a few minutes later than usual.
I can't tell if that's sad, or not.