Bus Report #926

This morning, on the 33 Ashbury (that's what we're calling it these days, right?).

The ride was uneventful for most of the commute, just me and some other regulars - the Russian woman who Skypes with her son, the bearded bald man - and a man I'd never seen before. The newcomer reeked of smoke (he'd just finished a cigarette and stashed the butt in a pocket before getting on the bus) and he sat in front of me. I fanned away the smoky smell. He wore a skull necklace that looked as though it was carved from bone or shells - cool.
I looked at his backpack, which was wrecked and looked like it was about to come apart at the seams. Thought about how I'd repair the straps, if it belonged to me.

We rode down into the Castro.
The memorial to the victims of the Orlando massacre just keeps getting bigger and sadder every day. Someone had chalked the names of all the victims on the sidewalk and it still looked pristine in the morning, as though people had been walking around it to show their respect.

The whole thing just rips my heart open wider and wider every morning.

We pulled in to the stop at 18th and Castro and several people got out. As we left the stop, the man sitting in front of me got up and went to the front of the bus, stopping to scoop up a forgotten phone left on one of the seats. He gave it to the driver.
The driver asked, "did you see who left it?"
The man nodded. "Yeah, but he already took off."
"Let's wait a minute," the driver said. "Maybe they'll come back."
She waited a couple minutes and then slowly started rolling down 18th.
She stopped the bus just a few feet away - someone was running back towards our bus.
"That's him," said the man in front of me.
A young guy in headphones jogged up the stairs and the driver handed him his phone. "Don't thank me," the driver said, "thank him," and she pointed to the man who had found the phone.
The kid grinned and thanked the man sitting in front of me.

A good start to a Friday. Have a good weekend, all.