Bus Report #708

Friday evening, on a crowded 22 Fillmore.
It was hot, too, anyone sitting in a window seat getting the full force of the sun. No fog in sight.
The bus was crowded and when we reached Church and Duboce, it got even worse.
A wheelchair passenger got on with her husband, and as soon as they were on board, the husband started pushing and shoving his way to the back door. He screamed at several women, a couple of regulars and some teens, called them bitches and that they needed to move out of his way.
With nowhere to go, they ignored him, so he yelled even louder, threatening that he'd kill them, and muttering to himself afterwards.
My seat mate shook his head. A woman across the aisle did the same, told her friend, "there are kids on this bus."
And there were, more kids than usual, little boys in school uniforms, a couple of chubby toddler girls with pierced ears. The preteen boy sitting in front of me started to fall asleep, and his mom pulled him into her lap. He didn't resist when she started rubbing his back, either. I wondered how many more moments like this they would have before he declared himself too old for such things.
The man kept cursing at people. The driver said nothing, did nothing, waited for another half dozen passengers to cram their bodies into the bus.
With the man at an even higher volume now, a woman sitting near the front of bus called out, "Can't you be a little more polite, asshole?"
A few of us laughed.
My seatmate stood up and tapped a sleepy-looking kid on the shoulder. "Hey buddy," he said, "you want to sit?"
The kid nodded and sat down next to me. He was asleep a moment later.