Bus Report #642

The 22 was late again today, but at least the driver was the friendly man with the sweet smile who always stops for regulars and chats up the old ladies. He makes the afternoon commute a little better.
I sat against the window next to a petite woman with a large trash bag full of laundry, or sewing, or something like that. Something soft. The bag pressed against my ankle. I didn't mind.
At Mission, a wheelchair passenger and their friend got on and settled in front of me. They were women, I think, but I never saw or heard enough of them to tell for sure.
The wheelchair passenger was quiet. She sat in her chair and looked out the window. Her friend - girlfriend? Wife? Best friend? made sure the brakes were on and then she perched on the side of the folded-up seat and spoke softly to her friend. Occasionally she adjusted the chair or played with the wheelchair passenger's hair and bandanna.
Carmen got on a few stops later.
"Please, sit," I said, starting to get up.
"No, it's okay," she said. "If you weren't here I'd be standing up anyway. No te preoccupes."
"Are you sure? I could hold your bag or something?" I offered.
She shook her head. "It's okay," she said.
We chatted a little, until the bus grew crowded and the driver came on the PA system and said, "Everybody, if you could just move back a few feet, it would be really helpful. I'd really appreciate it, and we could get on our way here."
People shuffled a little and the driver was finally able to close the front door. "Thank you, folks," he said. Carmen ended up in a seat towards the back of the bus.
My seatmate got out at Church Street. My new seatmate was a bear of a man with a large backpack and a heavy-looking cardboard box. The box sat on the floor at his feet. He drifted off to sleep, snoring loudly.