Bus Report #610
Last Sunday, showing the Little Sister a good time. We caught the F Market down near Embarcadero, planning to get some cake at our brother's favorite cake place in the Castro.
The train was crowded, the driver, someone I've seen before, tried to get everyone to load and unload the car as quickly as possible.
"I'd like to go home," he said over the loudspeaker.
Little Sister and I sat on a bench across from two couples - the men in khakis and button down shirts, the women dressed straight from a J.Crew catalog. They were all headed somewhere on Valencia and 15th - and I hoped they weren't planning to go to Zeitgeist while they were over there.
Someone sitting next to Little Sister started talking loudly on his phone. It was an older teenager or early-20s kid in jeans and a skull-patterned sweatshirt, with a flippy skater-kid hat.
"Yeah," he said, "grades should be in soon. I think I'm getting a B minus in my Queer literature survey class, a C in Psychology, and an A in Tae Kwon Do."
Little Sister and I stared at each other, trying not to laugh.
The foursome across from us did the same.
I couldn't help myself and burst out laughing, so hard my eyes were tearing up.
One of the men across the aisle said, "I needed to know about that Tae Kwon Do grade," and he grinned.
The kid went on, oblivious, talking about how he doesn't get more than 10 hours a week to practice skateboarding, but how he tries to watch the good skaters to learn their tricks.
Little Sister, the folks across the aisle and I kept looking at each other and tried not to laugh. The same chatty man across the aisle said, "This just gets more interesting as we go."
I nodded in agreement, clamped my hand over my mouth.
"Yeah, Grandma," the kid said.
Grandma?!?!? It set us all off again, laughing, smiling, trying not to arouse too much suspicion because we wanted to hear what this kid was saying.
"It was my boyfriend's birthday the other night," the kid went on. "He wanted Italian so I took him out. You know I'm not much for spaghetti but it was the only thing on the menu I could afford after he ordered his meal, so you know what, Grandma? I'm learning to eat spaghetti. It's not bad."
Little Sister, spaghetti aficionado extraordinaire, couldn't believe this.
The foursome stood up and got out near The Mint.
"I'm sorry to miss the rest of this," said the man from across the aisle.
"We'll let you know how it turns out," I promised him.
Little Sister and I got out at our stop and crossed the street, heading towards the cake shop.
"He needs a name," Little Sister said. "Let's call him Spencer."
We wish you the best of luck, Spencer: With your classes, your boyfriend, your skating and your spaghetti eating.
The train was crowded, the driver, someone I've seen before, tried to get everyone to load and unload the car as quickly as possible.
"I'd like to go home," he said over the loudspeaker.
Little Sister and I sat on a bench across from two couples - the men in khakis and button down shirts, the women dressed straight from a J.Crew catalog. They were all headed somewhere on Valencia and 15th - and I hoped they weren't planning to go to Zeitgeist while they were over there.
Someone sitting next to Little Sister started talking loudly on his phone. It was an older teenager or early-20s kid in jeans and a skull-patterned sweatshirt, with a flippy skater-kid hat.
"Yeah," he said, "grades should be in soon. I think I'm getting a B minus in my Queer literature survey class, a C in Psychology, and an A in Tae Kwon Do."
Little Sister and I stared at each other, trying not to laugh.
The foursome across from us did the same.
I couldn't help myself and burst out laughing, so hard my eyes were tearing up.
One of the men across the aisle said, "I needed to know about that Tae Kwon Do grade," and he grinned.
The kid went on, oblivious, talking about how he doesn't get more than 10 hours a week to practice skateboarding, but how he tries to watch the good skaters to learn their tricks.
Little Sister, the folks across the aisle and I kept looking at each other and tried not to laugh. The same chatty man across the aisle said, "This just gets more interesting as we go."
I nodded in agreement, clamped my hand over my mouth.
"Yeah, Grandma," the kid said.
Grandma?!?!? It set us all off again, laughing, smiling, trying not to arouse too much suspicion because we wanted to hear what this kid was saying.
"It was my boyfriend's birthday the other night," the kid went on. "He wanted Italian so I took him out. You know I'm not much for spaghetti but it was the only thing on the menu I could afford after he ordered his meal, so you know what, Grandma? I'm learning to eat spaghetti. It's not bad."
Little Sister, spaghetti aficionado extraordinaire, couldn't believe this.
The foursome stood up and got out near The Mint.
"I'm sorry to miss the rest of this," said the man from across the aisle.
"We'll let you know how it turns out," I promised him.
Little Sister and I got out at our stop and crossed the street, heading towards the cake shop.
"He needs a name," Little Sister said. "Let's call him Spencer."
We wish you the best of luck, Spencer: With your classes, your boyfriend, your skating and your spaghetti eating.
posted by Rachel at 11:59 AM
4 Comments:
This was truly an amazing conversation that we witnessed. I wish Spencer the best of luck! He seemed like a great grandson, boyfriend, and aspiring tae Kwon do master.
An amazing total package, for sure!
I know that I've met several Spencer (or his clone) riding the bus around town. If the kid is friendly, we've had some great conversations. I am OLD enough to be a grandma so I play up the white haired old lady bit and hear all sorts of things. I try not to laugh but sometimes it's hard. I wonder if I was every so young and so naive? I do remember my silly bravado but the idealism wasn't so silly.
Thanks, namastenancy.
And I have no problem admitting to my own youthful naivete... And the winceworthy memories the admission brings with it!
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