Bus Report #823

This afternoon the 22 Fillmore was late, and then packed. And I had to be somewhere in 20 minutes.

The bus pulled in to the Bryant and 16th stop. A dozen more people tried to pack their way into the back of the bus. On the sidewalk, two rough-looking girls squatted in front of two large paper cups and three pints of ice cream. One girl scooped ice cream from pint container to paper cup, really cramming it in there. Ice cream dripped on her leg, and onto the ground. As the bus pulled away, I saw a jar of maraschino cherries on the pavement between the girls' knees.

I got to my stop with a few minutes to spare. The folks standing in the stepwell were friendly. They stepped down so a few of us could get out. "Thanks," I called back to them as I crossed the street at the light.

Later, I walked down 17th to catch the 24 Divisadero bus. The only empty seat was next to a girl who was a dead ringer for Dorothy Gale - if Dorothy was a tall woman with close cropped brown hair and beautiful dark skin. She wore a blue and white polka dot dress with a white and blue kerchief in her pocket, red glasses, a shiny red belt that matched her red purse, and sneakers. I had a feeling she had some shiny red shoes tucked into her bag.
"Great outfit," I said, sliding in to the window seat.
"Oh, thanks," she said. "It's for an audition."
I saw then that she was reading a script on her tablet.
"Well, I hope you get the part," I said.
"Thanks," she said. For the rest of the ride she worked on memorizing her lines, whispering them to herself as we rode down Divisadero.
I saw a page of the script she was reading. It was a musical based on a fairy tale. But it is a better story if I tell you it was The Wizard of Oz.
So let's go with that.