Bus Report #866

Last Friday, after a long day all I wanted to do was go home.
The 22 was late, and packed, and it took forever to get to Geary.
I stepped off the bus to see two 38 Geary buses pulling away from the outbound stop.
Curses.

I crossed the street to wait for the bus, leaned up against the side of the bus shelter and zoned out. That is, zoned out until a family (mom, dad, grandma, granddaughter) came up to me in the stop and asked me if I spoke Spanish. This happens to me a lot, and I don't know if it is because of how I look, or if it's just a gamble on their part. To be fair, I am always accosted by Russian ladies on the bus, in my neighborhood, in the supermarket.
It's a multilingual world and I just live in it.
It's fantastic.

I took off my headphones and said yes, a little, and how could I help them?

They wanted directions to the puente - the Golden Gate Bridge.

"Easy," I told them. "Take the 38 or 38 L to Park Presidio, then transfer to the 28."
Someone had told them to get out at Geary and Fillmore, that this was the best way for them to get to the bridge.
Hmmm.
"Well, I guess you could take the 22 to the end of Fillmore and then walk from Crissy Field, but it would take a while," I said. I traced the map with my finger, showed them both routes.

After a little more conversation, my Spanish sloppy and badly accented for most of it, they decided to take a cab.

"Sorry for my bad Spanish! Good luck!" I called after them.
The grandma looked back at me and said, "Actually, you were very good."

"God, thanks, I hope so," I replied.

A man standing a few feet away from me in the stop grinned and came over. "You were fine," he said.

I hope that family got to the bridge okay.