Bus Report #843
Tonight, a crowded 22 Fillmore.
I sat next to a guy who always gets on at Haight. He was slumped in our seat, headphones on, but when I sat down he nodded, curtly, and half-smiled.
The bus filled up. A man with a wooden loom got on, stood beside me. The loom was almost as tall as he was - so, maybe over five feet tall? - and it was a bead loom. There were three inches or so of intricately woven Native-American inspired beaded designs, all done with the tiniest of seed beads. Mostly yellow, some red, black, and white.
Pretty man stood in the middle of the bus. Skinny black jeans and tight black shirt, open weave, slightly ratty (but in a stylish way) oatmeal colored sweater, big and long enough that if he belted it, it would be a dress. He wore a black watch cap piled on top of his head. Full beard.
He got out at Turk, walked down the block with an olive green dopp-kit-style bag swinging from his wrist.
The 38 was oddly empty when I got on at Fillmore, unusual.
Twenty minutes later I was on a crowded 38 after picking up some groceries, and because no one would move (I'm looking at you, dude with big backpack, suit with headphones, girl in leotard!) I accidentally stepped on a girl's foot. I felt bad, she was wearing what were basically ballet flats, but it wasn't my fault, it was either step on her or tumble into someone's lap with all my stuff.
She got out at Spruce.
No sign of permanent damage, no limping at all.
I sat next to a guy who always gets on at Haight. He was slumped in our seat, headphones on, but when I sat down he nodded, curtly, and half-smiled.
The bus filled up. A man with a wooden loom got on, stood beside me. The loom was almost as tall as he was - so, maybe over five feet tall? - and it was a bead loom. There were three inches or so of intricately woven Native-American inspired beaded designs, all done with the tiniest of seed beads. Mostly yellow, some red, black, and white.
Pretty man stood in the middle of the bus. Skinny black jeans and tight black shirt, open weave, slightly ratty (but in a stylish way) oatmeal colored sweater, big and long enough that if he belted it, it would be a dress. He wore a black watch cap piled on top of his head. Full beard.
He got out at Turk, walked down the block with an olive green dopp-kit-style bag swinging from his wrist.
The 38 was oddly empty when I got on at Fillmore, unusual.
Twenty minutes later I was on a crowded 38 after picking up some groceries, and because no one would move (I'm looking at you, dude with big backpack, suit with headphones, girl in leotard!) I accidentally stepped on a girl's foot. I felt bad, she was wearing what were basically ballet flats, but it wasn't my fault, it was either step on her or tumble into someone's lap with all my stuff.
She got out at Spruce.
No sign of permanent damage, no limping at all.
posted by Rachel at 9:30 PM
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