Thursday, September 03, 2009

Bus Report #450

This morning's rides were pretty mellow. My 38L arrived but the sign on the front said 'Not In Service'. I asked the driver about it and she just smiled wearily and said it was broken. I bet everyone who got on before me had already asked her.
The driver got up to help a wheelchair passenger, and I noticed she had disturbingly long fingernails. The first word I thought of to describe them? Talons.

At 6th Ave., this very odd woman who has been riding our bus for the past few days got on, dragging a cart behind her. She sat a few seats away from me and rearranged some things in her cart. She noticed the window across from me was closed. There was a man sitting right there but that was no impediment to her: she leaned all the way across his body (he stared at her, shrank away, but didn't say anything) and she opened the window with a crumpled napkin, then sat back down.
I exchanged glances with the man, and with the woman sitting next to me. Strange.
I turned to look at the odd woman. She now had huge sunglasses on and had put the napkin over her mouth and nose like a face mask. It looked very, very creepy.

I waited for the 22 down on Fillmore and Geary. Yet again, even though the bus stop is very big and wide open someone decided they NEEDED to stand about 5 inches away from me. An older Russian man stood practically on top of me, cracking and spitting sunflower seed shells onto the sidewalk. Yum!
I moved away from him, but he didn't really take the hint. Sigh. The bus pulled into the stop and I got on.
The catfish face man was reading a magazine. The woman sitting behind him was reading a book (couldn't see the title) and the girl behind her was reading some stapled together copies. Looked like homework to me.

At 16th Street and Mission I saw a poster that said: BICYCLE THIEF, WE WILL HURT YOU and it had a photo of a bike or a bike rider on it. The posters were spaced out over several blocks of 16th. I hope they find the thief, though I'm not sold on the violence.

Several refrigerator-built teen girls got on the bus. Their short dresses did them no favors.

At my coffee shop it was business as usual. I got my coffee along with some friendly gossip and smiles, and walked the rest of the way to work.


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