Bus Report #906
The usual driver, the old Russian lady, and me, for many, many blocks.
At Fulton a kid got on who seemed a little out of it but otherwise fairly normal, until he started switching seats every couple of minutes, with no discernible pattern. It was unnerving. If he was trying to make sure he didn't miss his stop, all he needed to do was let the driver know where he was going.
The bus filled up, and the kid kept changing seats. He wore his khakis belt less and hanging off his ass, and as he hopped up and down and switched seats again and again, the pants began to slide down even further, until he was wearing just his boxer shorts with the khakis bunched up by his knees. Lots of bare, exposed thigh that no one wanted to see.
He was unbothered. Kept moving around until even the driver turned around and asked, "where are you trying to go?"
No answer from the kid.
He eventually got out at Mission Street. By now, I expect his khakis have fallen completely off.
The giant genie got on at his usual stop. He wore his enormous galoshes again. Combed his beard with a red plastic comb, then out came the dandy brush. Fantastic, as always.