Bus Report #837
This morning I got down to Fillmore right in time to see the 22 fly past my stop. Ah well.
I walked up a block to wait under the big trees near Sutter.
A boy sat in the bus shelter, legs splayed out in front of him. He looked like he'd been sleeping there.
Muni predicted 19 minutes and 29 minutes until the next couple buses. I hoped it was a mistake.
It wasn't, and I stood under the trees watching the street scape lighten as the sun grew brighter, watched buses pass by at regular intervals across the street, watched a homeless man lurch down the sidewalk dragging his sleeping bag behind him. An elderly woman jogged past me twice.
Mr. Taylor, the world's oldest school crossing guard, came around the corner with his bright yellow outfit blazing, his plastic bag and STOP sign in his right hand, steaming cup of tea in his left.
"Morning, Rachel," he said. He looked at the Next Bus sign. "13 minutes," he said, and shook his head. "Guess I'm walking."
"Have a great day," I said.
"You, too, and hope your bus comes soon," he replied.
Thirteen minutes later, on the dot, our bus pulled up. The kid who had been waiting in the bus shelter stood up and we got on.
At Eddy a girl and her mom got on the bus and the mom gestured for the girl, a high school student, to sit beside her. This mom takes her 15 or 16 year old daughter to school every day, even though her daughter seems very, very embarrassed about it. It is a straight shot on the bus from their stop to the school. I wonder if the daughter is known to cut classes, or if the mother is just a helicopter parent extraordinaire.
Oddly, despite the bus' lateness, it was fairly empty and stayed that way the entire ride. I wondered where everyone was.
But I did not complain.