Bus Report #651

A slow, slow ride home tonight.
The 22 came on time, with a new driver, a woman who refuses to smile.
I got on and sat in a window seat towards the back, my headphones on, and I zoned out to the best of my ability.
We made our way down 17th to 16th and up to the Potrero Center. We were moving quickly enough, until we got to the Bryant Street stop.
A wheelchair passenger needed to get on, but no one was moving from the seats in the front of the bus.
The driver slowly stood up and said, "You gotta move," but with no sense of urgency.
A few people moved toward the back of the bus. A young man in a suit and a tie flipped the seats up.
Just as the driver lowered the lift, a woman with two kids tried to get out through the front door.
She did not seem to understand why the driver wouldn't let her out, and instead of walking to the back door she stood there next to the driver, with both kids, completely in the way.
When the wheelchair passenger tried to get on, the woman with the kids did not budge.
The driver did not say anything, either.
Eventually the wheelchair passenger maneuvered into her spot. The woman with the kids got out.
We crawled to the light and sat there another light cycle.

Mission Street, a crowd gathered in the BART plaza because two men and a woman were fighting. They were all yelling at each other and people in the crowd kept trying to calm them down.
The bus driver didn't seem to notice or care.

We continued our slow commute up 16th, down Church, stopped for way too long by Safeway as every person and vehicle imaginable crossed in front of our bus. Just one of those nights, I guess, but I had things to do and could feel my night slipping away from me more and more.

We got to Geary and I ran to catch the 38L.
Much better, I was home in fifteen minutes.