Bus Report #913

This morning, walking to catch the 33 in the early morning quiet, the couple walking in front of me got in to a heated argument, in sign language.

They had been walking together, signing to each other as they went, when the woman in the couple stopped walking and began to turn away from the man. He stopped, too, tugged at her arm, and their body language went from two people having a conversation to two people arguing. He signed widely, his hands smacking together loud enough that I could hear it a half block away. And then she threw her hands up, pushing her palms out and then hitting them together in a dismissive fashion.

She turned around and walked away, and he walked on, and I wondered what had happened to radically change the course of their morning stroll.

Bus Report #912

The other night, L. and D. and I waited for the 1 California after writing group.
The bus arrived sooner than expected - so D. and I hugged L. and hurried onto the bus before it took off without us.

We rode to Presidio without a hitch and I hopped out, preferring to transfer to the 2 Clement so I could get to the library as lazily as possible.

A handsome man with a guitar case strapped to his back wandered over to the bus shelter, looked at his phone and then at the NextBus console. We chatted the way you do with strangers at bus stops. He was friendly and smiley. The perfect bus shelter companion on a cold and damp night.

He was waiting for the 2 as well, on his way to 8th Ave. - I guessed guitar lessons at the place near Goodwill, or playing a set or meeting friends at Richmond Republic.

The bus arrived and we got on. I sat in the back, blinking in the overwhelmingly bright fluorescent light.

At 8th, the man got out, calling a cheery 'see you later' back to me.

Yes, I thought, I hope you do.