This morning I got down to Fillmore just in time to see the 22 fly through the light and head up the street. Ah well, I thought, we're starting off the week just right, aren't we?
I waited for the bus at the Sutter
Street stop, happy for the change of scenery, the lack of people sleeping in the bus shelter, and the strange comfort of the canopy of tree branches above me.
Ten minutes later a 22 came barreling down Fillmore. I smiled. I knew that break-neck driving - it was my favorite 22 driver, he of the dark glasses and the leather cap.
He pulled up in front of me and I got in.
"Good morning, honey," he said, as he reached for my hand. I grinned and shook his hand, and told him I was glad to see him.
I sat in an aisle seat near the back of the bus.
The ride was uneventful and I spent most of it zoning out, staring out the window.
We stopped at Mission Street and the bus filled up.
The Roche Bobois
guy sat next to me, nodding his head in acknowledgment.
This afternoon I walked down to the bus stop with T.
We had both lost track of time at work until suddenly it was past time for her to leave, and just in time for me to split for the night.
We rode the 22 together until Potrero
, where she hopped out to catch the 9 San Bruno.
The bus grew crowded, so much so that our driver came on the PA system and said, "I'm so sorry folks, but as you might be able to tell the bus is full, so if you are trying to get on, I hate to tell you, you need to wait for the next coach."
It was very polite of him, and he made that announcement at least six more times during the ride.
As we sailed past Harrison Street, he said, "All you folks waiting outside, I'm so sorry, but we're full."
I thought, I wouldn't mind waiting if every driver who passed me by could make a similar announcement.
A woman with tattoos up and down her exposed spine kept standing up to throw things out the window.
A little boy sitting in front of me played with a toy car, and everyone sitting near him kept smiling and telling his mom how cute he was.
I got out at Geary
and crossed the street to the stop by the Boom Boom Room.
A sardine-packed 38L came by, but I waited for the much emptier regular right behind it.
My seat mate read the Examiner, and as he finished each section he threw it under the seat.