Bus Report #810
Thursday night, on my way downtown to meet some of the CJM folks, I hopped on an F Market and rattled down Market Street for a few blocks.
A man stood by the back door, repeating a ritual. He'd squat down and tap a plastic razor against the steps or the doors a couple times, then stand up and, looking in the mirror, attempt to dry shave his face and neck with the razor.
The razor was beyond dull and it didn't matter how many times he tried to shave with it. Nothing happened.
By the end of my ride he'd repeated his ritual a dozen times, perhaps more, and had nothing to show for it except reddish trails across his cheeks and down his neck.
A man stood by the back door, repeating a ritual. He'd squat down and tap a plastic razor against the steps or the doors a couple times, then stand up and, looking in the mirror, attempt to dry shave his face and neck with the razor.
The razor was beyond dull and it didn't matter how many times he tried to shave with it. Nothing happened.
By the end of my ride he'd repeated his ritual a dozen times, perhaps more, and had nothing to show for it except reddish trails across his cheeks and down his neck.
posted by Rachel at 10:28 AM
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