Bus Report #803
Two mornings in a row waiting in the dark with Mr. Taylor, the world's oldest school crossing guard.
He was prepared for the rain yesterday, clad head to toe in his bright yellow rain gear.
On the bus yesterday everything and everyone was wet. Umbrellas, jackets, seats, backpacks, everything.
The windows were closed tight, and fogged up, and my driver on the 38 had to wipe down all the front windows, which took too long and added another few minutes to the first half of the commute.
At Fillmore everyone crowded under the overhang to wait.
Once on the bus I slid in to a window seat near the back of the bus and held my wet bag on my lap. The water seeped in to my jeans.
A man got on at Church and Market, the spitting image of the late, great, David Rakoff. It made me smile, thinking of Rakoff, and I decided to listen to the This American Life episode aired just after he died. Brilliant if heartbreaking. It made the ride better.
He was prepared for the rain yesterday, clad head to toe in his bright yellow rain gear.
On the bus yesterday everything and everyone was wet. Umbrellas, jackets, seats, backpacks, everything.
The windows were closed tight, and fogged up, and my driver on the 38 had to wipe down all the front windows, which took too long and added another few minutes to the first half of the commute.
At Fillmore everyone crowded under the overhang to wait.
Once on the bus I slid in to a window seat near the back of the bus and held my wet bag on my lap. The water seeped in to my jeans.
A man got on at Church and Market, the spitting image of the late, great, David Rakoff. It made me smile, thinking of Rakoff, and I decided to listen to the This American Life episode aired just after he died. Brilliant if heartbreaking. It made the ride better.
posted by Rachel at 8:44 AM
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