Had a late meeting at work the other night, so instead of waiting for the 22 on a dark and empty block of 17th I made my way up to the Potrero Center and waited in front of Boston Market (or Boston Chicken, as I remember it from my Boston Childhood) for the 22 or the 33, whichever showed up first.
Twenty minutes later and I was still waiting, leaning against the side of the bus shelter and squinting into the dark to see if anything was coming. A petite woman sat in the tiny space under the stairs behind the bus shelter, listening to music on her phone. Two twenty-somethings (CCA students, I gathered - the Art school, not the Culinary) talked about the upcoming film festival and volunteer opportunities.
A woman in a suit paced the block, chatting loudly about her job, or a job interview, through a blue tooth headset.
A 33 turned the corner and pulled in to the stop, but it was only going to Haight. I watched everyone else get into the already packed bus.
Two minutes later, another 33 pulled up, empty except for one passenger. I got on and sat down.
The other passenger talked with (well, I guess she talked at) the driver.
"I saved her life," she said, loudly. "Actually, I saved both their lives, because she coulda drowned in the bath and her son coulda died too. That's what I was there for. I had to choose, you know, because there were two kinds of DNA? And she was a diabetic, so you know, it was important."
Hmmm. Interesting, but I tuned her out and started listening to an old episode of Radio Lab.
At the next stop, two middle-aged guys got on. They seemed to know each other, though not well. They sat in the front of the bus and talked a little, in Spanish.
Then the younger of the two guys, who did not seem at all drunk or chemically influenced, burst in to song and serenaded his friend with a Beatles song - "And I Love Her."
It was touching, it was sweet, and it was a little strange since they didn't seem to be anything more than friends, and the man seemed to be singing it entirely phonetically. Brilliant.