Bus Report #473
I know I've been slacking. Let's blame National Novel Writing Month, and leave it at that.
Not much going on with my commutes lately. The usual gang of loud kids, regulars, and crazy people of varying degrees.
This morning there was a crazy bible thumper on my 22 Fillmore. No, really, and nothing against decent church-going folk, but this guy was having a very interesting silent conversation with himself, gesticulating (in what actually looked like very deliberate, choreographed motions) to the people sitting across from him, the people sitting back where I was sitting, and to himself. He crossed himself in the manner of old Italian priests from horror films, very seriously, with lots of looping hand gestures.
And then there was the bible.
He had a black regular book-size bible in his left hand. He would tap it on his shoulders, his head, his thigh, the seat beside him, sometimes twisting his arm in uncomfortable-looking ways just to get a good thump out of it.
No one sat near him.
Yesterday morning on my way to the bus stop I passed a pile of trash on the side of the street. An old foosball (sp?) table was balanced on its side next to a pile of old pots and pans.
My heart leapt when I saw the handle of a small cast iron pan (readers may remember some older posts where I travel on the 38 with a cast iron I found on top of a trash can or the time I bought a cast iron at Community Thrift and took it on BART) peering out from under a scorched non-stick pan. Oh but I wanted that pan! I almost took it, too, before realizing I would have to carry it all the way to work and back home, and the bus was fast approaching. I hope someone else managed to scavenge it before the garbage truck came. Sigh.
Not much going on with my commutes lately. The usual gang of loud kids, regulars, and crazy people of varying degrees.
This morning there was a crazy bible thumper on my 22 Fillmore. No, really, and nothing against decent church-going folk, but this guy was having a very interesting silent conversation with himself, gesticulating (in what actually looked like very deliberate, choreographed motions) to the people sitting across from him, the people sitting back where I was sitting, and to himself. He crossed himself in the manner of old Italian priests from horror films, very seriously, with lots of looping hand gestures.
And then there was the bible.
He had a black regular book-size bible in his left hand. He would tap it on his shoulders, his head, his thigh, the seat beside him, sometimes twisting his arm in uncomfortable-looking ways just to get a good thump out of it.
No one sat near him.
Yesterday morning on my way to the bus stop I passed a pile of trash on the side of the street. An old foosball (sp?) table was balanced on its side next to a pile of old pots and pans.
My heart leapt when I saw the handle of a small cast iron pan (readers may remember some older posts where I travel on the 38 with a cast iron I found on top of a trash can or the time I bought a cast iron at Community Thrift and took it on BART) peering out from under a scorched non-stick pan. Oh but I wanted that pan! I almost took it, too, before realizing I would have to carry it all the way to work and back home, and the bus was fast approaching. I hope someone else managed to scavenge it before the garbage truck came. Sigh.
posted by Rachel at 8:18 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home