Bus Report #920
This morning the 33 pulled in to the stop, a few minutes later than usual but not a big deal, hell, it's Friday.
I got on and went to sit down - and that's when I noticed the woman who often drinks very, very pungent garlic tea. She was taking big gulps from her thermos. The bus stank like garlic. I opened some windows. I'm a garlic lover, but at 6:45 in the morning and in an enclosed space? Nope.
She kept drinking her tea, and of course hacking and coughing as she often does. Is the tea a cure for the hacking and coughing, or is the hacking and coughing a side effect of drinking the tea? I will never know.
Later, the loud mother and daughter pair that rides the bus every morning got on, sat behind me and yelled at each other even though they sat shoulder to shoulder.
The bald yet thickly-bearded man who gets on at Waller stepped up into the bus and smiled at the driver, and sat towards the back of the bus.
Castro and 18th, the corner of the bank decorated with new memorial posters and flowers. Always a sobering part of my commute.
A man reeking of stale cigarettes stumbled up the back steps of the bus and slid into a seat behind me. He had greasy long hair, a black leather jacket, and pajama pants printed with the Julius the Monkey pattern. Incongruous. I had to laugh.
I got on and went to sit down - and that's when I noticed the woman who often drinks very, very pungent garlic tea. She was taking big gulps from her thermos. The bus stank like garlic. I opened some windows. I'm a garlic lover, but at 6:45 in the morning and in an enclosed space? Nope.
She kept drinking her tea, and of course hacking and coughing as she often does. Is the tea a cure for the hacking and coughing, or is the hacking and coughing a side effect of drinking the tea? I will never know.
Later, the loud mother and daughter pair that rides the bus every morning got on, sat behind me and yelled at each other even though they sat shoulder to shoulder.
The bald yet thickly-bearded man who gets on at Waller stepped up into the bus and smiled at the driver, and sat towards the back of the bus.
Castro and 18th, the corner of the bank decorated with new memorial posters and flowers. Always a sobering part of my commute.
A man reeking of stale cigarettes stumbled up the back steps of the bus and slid into a seat behind me. He had greasy long hair, a black leather jacket, and pajama pants printed with the Julius the Monkey pattern. Incongruous. I had to laugh.
posted by Rachel at 8:45 AM
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