Bus Report #821
This morning on the 22 Fillmore, a new passenger. He was a very pretty man, mustached and bearded, wearing a black and white flowing top, black T-shirt, tight jeans cuffed mid-calf, with shiny black shoes and a scarf expertly twisted around his head.
He had a smart phone with a neon green case and held a large leather pouch on his lap. His long, delicate fingers rested on top of the pouch.
I got excited and thought, this is it, Mister Fantastic's new boyfriend.
Because really - a mutual love of bright neon, and Mister Fantastic's wristlet would look good next to pretty man's leather pouch.
I hoped - and I mean HOPED - that Mister Fantastic would be on the bus, not that I could telepathically matchmake the two of them, but it wasn't to be. Mister Fantastic was nowhere to be found, and pretty man got out at Church and Market.
Later, at 16th and Mission, I watched a woman try to pry open the door of the public toilet. I don't know if she succeeded.
Got my coffee and walked down 16th, waved to the guys at the garage and walked up the hill to work.
Along the way, four pigeons narrowly avoided flying into me. I wondered for a moment if I was invisible to pigeons.
And then, some sort of flying bug hit me squarely in the forehead. Invisible to bugs too, I guess.
He had a smart phone with a neon green case and held a large leather pouch on his lap. His long, delicate fingers rested on top of the pouch.
I got excited and thought, this is it, Mister Fantastic's new boyfriend.
Because really - a mutual love of bright neon, and Mister Fantastic's wristlet would look good next to pretty man's leather pouch.
I hoped - and I mean HOPED - that Mister Fantastic would be on the bus, not that I could telepathically matchmake the two of them, but it wasn't to be. Mister Fantastic was nowhere to be found, and pretty man got out at Church and Market.
Later, at 16th and Mission, I watched a woman try to pry open the door of the public toilet. I don't know if she succeeded.
Got my coffee and walked down 16th, waved to the guys at the garage and walked up the hill to work.
Along the way, four pigeons narrowly avoided flying into me. I wondered for a moment if I was invisible to pigeons.
And then, some sort of flying bug hit me squarely in the forehead. Invisible to bugs too, I guess.
posted by Rachel at 8:53 AM
2 Comments:
Damn. I was looking forward to learn about what happens when Mr. Pretty & Mr. Fantastic meet!
One of these days, John, if we're lucky.
I think they'd hit it off, I really do!
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