Late night last night, managed to troop out to Market Street from the Ballpark with several hundred other people looking for a way home.
T. and I caught a 38 owl, no small feat. We had to jayrun (is that a word? if not, I just invented it) across the Geary/Kearny intersection to make it. Found a place to stand in the back, where a boy recently released from his restaurant job tried hard to impress the teenage girl he was with. He was wearing a large backpack, and T. got hit in the head a few times when the boy turned to flirt with his friend.
Finally, T. turned to him and asked him, politely, if he would move his bag out of swinging distance, so she wouldn't keep getting hit with it. He ignored her, but immediately started making fun of her to his friend.
T. got out at Van Ness to catch a 49 to another social engagement. I hope she got there and had a good time.
I slid in to a seat behind a severely dandruffed woman with long, dirty hair and a grungy jacket. I sat as far back in my seat as I could so her hair wouldn't touch my bag or lap. Gross.
She got out at the next stop, and was actually a young teenage boy. I actually said, "Oh, oops," out loud, and a man standing nearby gave me a quizzical look.
A few people from the front of the bus pushed their way back. I wasn't really looking at them or registering anything, mostly I was just hoping I'd be home soon so I could kick off my shoes and relax a little. It had been a long day: new volunteer gig, errands, Opera in the park.
Suddenly, standing right in front of me was someone who looked very familiar but at first I couldn't place him.
It took us both a minute to figure out how we knew each other, but then I got it:
Despite the new hairstyle, non-work clothes and time of night, I was staring into the (still) beautiful brown eyes of the handsome South Asian chef, Sameer!
"Hey," I said, smiling up at him. "Been a while."
He grinned back. "Yeah," he said. "How are you?"
"Good," I said. "Last time I saw you, your hair was like ten feet shorter." Now his hair is shoulder length, wavy and very thick. It looks good.
"And yours was much longer," he replied. He was standing next to a tall, handsome man with a shaved head and great-looking tattooed sleeves. His friend? Boyfriend? Either way, the man was good-looking and friendly, so nice job, Sameer. I looked at the friend. "And of course your hair was knee length, wasn't it?" I joked.
"Actually his hair was pretty long before," Sameer said, flashing me that beautiful wry smile I always liked to see in the mornings.
We caught up on several year's worth of each other's lives. He works out of town now, no longer has the option of Muni so he drives to work. "Sorry," he apologized. "You still take the 22 in the morning?"
"Yeah," I said. "You're missing nothing."
"I've still got the same early mornings," he said. "I got to be at work at 6 in the morning tomorrow."
I made a show of looking at my watch. "Bit late for you, then," I teased.
"Well," he said, still smiling. "Folsom Street's this weekend."
"Ah," I replied.
The guys tried to figure out where they could get something to eat when they got home.
"Maybe we can just make something at home," said Sameer's boyfriend.
"Ugh," Sameer said. "That's my work, no thanks."
Sameer leaned over to pull the signaler. "Nice seeing you," he said.
"You too," I said. I looked at the boyfriend. "And you too, of course."
"See you soon, maybe," Sameer said. They got out at his usual stop, and the bus continued on. I was home ten minutes later.