Bus Report #439
A normal work commute this morning, 38 Geary to 22 Fillmore, half asleep and on auto-pilot.
I got my coffee and walked towards work. I was about to cross the street to say hi to the guys at the garage when I noticed a man in an apron and yellow kitchen gloves running extremely fast across the street.
I looked to see where he was going, and saw two men engaged in a serious fight right in front of the garage.
One man tripped over the other man's bicycle, and started hitting the man with a piece of wood. The other man hit him back, and it was almost like a fight in a movie, except with bad choreography and no music.
They hit each other with fists and sticks, while the man with the yellow gloves tried to intervene. They rolled towards the street, their arms locked around each other's head.
The guys from the garage came out and suddenly there was a flurry of movement and the garage guys held the man with the bike while the man with the yellow gloves held the man with the stick.
I stood on the corner, motionless.
The fight broke up, the man with the stick leaving with the man with the yellow gloves (I think towards the soup kitchen down the street, not sure).
The garage guys stood by their front door, their arms crossed, waiting for the other guy to move on.
The man with the bike stood there for a minute, until some other friends surrounded him and they moved off down the block together.
One man who had been watching the fight stomped across the street and walked very close to me.
"Nothing like a good fight in the morning," he said.
I walked away and hoped that the 22 would come pick me up. I did not want to be walking alone near those guys, no way.
A 22 pulled up and I got on. Luckily, the guy who likes a good fight did not get on.
I got my coffee and walked towards work. I was about to cross the street to say hi to the guys at the garage when I noticed a man in an apron and yellow kitchen gloves running extremely fast across the street.
I looked to see where he was going, and saw two men engaged in a serious fight right in front of the garage.
One man tripped over the other man's bicycle, and started hitting the man with a piece of wood. The other man hit him back, and it was almost like a fight in a movie, except with bad choreography and no music.
They hit each other with fists and sticks, while the man with the yellow gloves tried to intervene. They rolled towards the street, their arms locked around each other's head.
The guys from the garage came out and suddenly there was a flurry of movement and the garage guys held the man with the bike while the man with the yellow gloves held the man with the stick.
I stood on the corner, motionless.
The fight broke up, the man with the stick leaving with the man with the yellow gloves (I think towards the soup kitchen down the street, not sure).
The garage guys stood by their front door, their arms crossed, waiting for the other guy to move on.
The man with the bike stood there for a minute, until some other friends surrounded him and they moved off down the block together.
One man who had been watching the fight stomped across the street and walked very close to me.
"Nothing like a good fight in the morning," he said.
I walked away and hoped that the 22 would come pick me up. I did not want to be walking alone near those guys, no way.
A 22 pulled up and I got on. Luckily, the guy who likes a good fight did not get on.
posted by Rachel at 8:15 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home