Bus Report #662

The 2 Clement, a few days after Christmas.

The bus was crowded but my folks and I got seats in the back of the bus.
Sitting next to my father was a man who was unmemorable in every way but one.

He had his eyebrows draw on, thick, sharp, brown lines that extended from his nose, up over his real eyebrows, then around and down to his ears. Whatever he had used to draw them on had smudged, so that the closer the line got to his ears, the lighter and messier it got.

He was dressed like all the other day laborers and construction workers you see on the bus every day. His boots were white with dust.

What on earth had he been thinking?

My mom and I smiled at each other. I tried to get my dad's attention, but it took a while. When he finally took a look at his seatmate, he grinned and nodded.

I wondered about the man with the drawn-on eyebrows. Surely he had a friend or co-worker who could have pulled him aside at any point and said, "you know, that doesn't look natural," or, "I think you might want to try something different."

The man got out at Van Ness.

I silently wished him luck.