Bus Report #616

Back in San Francisco after almost 2 weeks in Boston. This morning I got on the 38 and the driver said, "You been on vacation or something?"
"I was," I told him, not feeling the need to go in to detail about school.
"Well I hope you had a good time," he said.
"I did, thanks," I said.
I tapped my Clipper card once to (hopefully) activate my autoload, then again to make sure it accepted my card. Success! But I won't be autoloading again. I think it's stupid that it can take 3-5 days to register on your card. No thanks.

Boston was good - just as it should be. It was hot, humid, a different summertime experience than what we're used to out here. I spent my mornings riding the 66 bus to Cambridge in air-conditioned silence, the bus barreling through traffic, picking up people dressed in summery clothes we just don't see enough of around here.
A cheerful see-you-later to the driver always resulted in smiles and waves and a joke or two when our paths crossed further up Mass Ave.

Later, I'd wait by the cemetery for the bus home. A ritual dating back to my high school days.

One night, waiting for the 66 across the street from Charlie's Kitchen, I felt transported back in time over a decade.
I pictured waiting for the last bus out of the Square with Andy, while our co-workers stayed upstairs knocking back beers ahead of last call.
Andy lighting a cigarette on our often-times-true assertion that smoking accelerated the bus' arrival.