Bus Report #578

This morning I was running a few minutes late. Blame KQED public radio, or blame my unwashed dishes from last night.
I waited to cross Geary to wait at the bus stop. I could see a 38 at the light a block away. My light changed and I crossed the street. The 38 pulled up a moment later but the driver didn't see me right away and he drove past the stop. I waved to him and he eventually stopped half a block later. I ran to catch up.
"Thanks a lot," I said, flashing my fast pass at him.
We sped down Geary and got to Fillmore in less than ten minutes. I waited in the dark for the 22. No one was out and there were very few cars. Strange.
The bus arrived a few minutes later, driven by a new, humorless man who has yet to win me over.
I sat towards the back of the bus and cracked a window, closed my eyes and listened to music.
As we passed through the Castro/Mission (Misastro? Castrission?)I could smell smoke from this morning's two fires. I hoped everyone was okay and that they could get back into their apartments soon.
16th and Mission was a deserted plaza. The public toilet door was stuck open, but there was no one inside.