Bus Report #491
Saturday night, 11:15 PM, inbound 38 Geary bus.
I got on and went to the back of the bus, where the only open seat was next to a half-dozen bottle-blonde, ugly-boots-wearing, cleavage bearing, no-older-than-22-year-old girls. They talked to each other in pairs, about blind dates and papers due Monday, about where they were getting out the bus.
The front part of the bus was mostly full of young Latino guys, some who might have been high school students and the rest I recognized as stock boys and restaurant workers from the Clement Street stores and Chinese places I walk by (or go into) all the time.
In the very back of the bus there was an older guy wearing a Gilligan-style hat. He was very obviously messed up, drunk or high or both. I didn't pay any attention to him, or to anything really, until the blonde sitting next to me cut in to her own conversation, turning towards the Gilligan man and said, "NO! You stop it! You do NOT pretend you're shooting a gun at me! Cut it out right now!"
Everyone turned to look. The high school kids, stock boys, other blondes and me.
The Gilligan man started to stand up, muttering and shouting at the blonde girl. Saying things like, "Don't you tell me what to do, you little bitch," and the like.
As he got more aggressive towards the blonde, she just yelled at him even louder.
The Gilligan man took a few steps forward.
The blonde shifted to the edge of her seat.
A nerdy-looking guy who had just gotten on the bus at the last stop made his way to the back of the bus. He wore a leather (or faux leather?) jacket with some patches on the sleeve that looked like boy scout patches. He had thick Clark Kent glasses and a buzz cut.
He effortlessly moved between the blonde and the Gilligan man. He lightly touched the man's sleeve and a moment later the two of them were sitting down in the back row of seats, the Gilligan man still muttering, the nerdy-guy nodding sincerely and trying to engage the man in conversation.
The blondes were silent. A few minutes later, they got out at 6th Ave., headed towards the Bitter End.
One of the high school boys laughed and said, "Man, that dude scared off those girls."
But he hadn't. They had been planning to get out there all along.
I got on and went to the back of the bus, where the only open seat was next to a half-dozen bottle-blonde, ugly-boots-wearing, cleavage bearing, no-older-than-22-year-old girls. They talked to each other in pairs, about blind dates and papers due Monday, about where they were getting out the bus.
The front part of the bus was mostly full of young Latino guys, some who might have been high school students and the rest I recognized as stock boys and restaurant workers from the Clement Street stores and Chinese places I walk by (or go into) all the time.
In the very back of the bus there was an older guy wearing a Gilligan-style hat. He was very obviously messed up, drunk or high or both. I didn't pay any attention to him, or to anything really, until the blonde sitting next to me cut in to her own conversation, turning towards the Gilligan man and said, "NO! You stop it! You do NOT pretend you're shooting a gun at me! Cut it out right now!"
Everyone turned to look. The high school kids, stock boys, other blondes and me.
The Gilligan man started to stand up, muttering and shouting at the blonde girl. Saying things like, "Don't you tell me what to do, you little bitch," and the like.
As he got more aggressive towards the blonde, she just yelled at him even louder.
The Gilligan man took a few steps forward.
The blonde shifted to the edge of her seat.
A nerdy-looking guy who had just gotten on the bus at the last stop made his way to the back of the bus. He wore a leather (or faux leather?) jacket with some patches on the sleeve that looked like boy scout patches. He had thick Clark Kent glasses and a buzz cut.
He effortlessly moved between the blonde and the Gilligan man. He lightly touched the man's sleeve and a moment later the two of them were sitting down in the back row of seats, the Gilligan man still muttering, the nerdy-guy nodding sincerely and trying to engage the man in conversation.
The blondes were silent. A few minutes later, they got out at 6th Ave., headed towards the Bitter End.
One of the high school boys laughed and said, "Man, that dude scared off those girls."
But he hadn't. They had been planning to get out there all along.
posted by Rachel at 4:00 PM
1 Comments:
Cool story, well written.
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