Bus Report #1002

This morning on the 33:

A man with an unexpected tramp stamp (or, at best, poorly placed very spiritually important to him tattoo) who sat down in front of me, his shirt riding up, his jeans riding down to display his ink.

Good, good, white-grey fog on the hill before the hairpin turn.

The cat that lounges in a window on 18th most mornings, surveying his kingdom.

I got out at Potrero to get a bagel, and as I crossed back to head to work, there was a 22 Fillmore bus, with a smiling Leon waving and honking.

I hopped on and we chatted a bit. He's doing well. Smiley and friendly as always. Other passengers greeting him by name, waving too.

At the next stop, a man I know from my building sat down across from me, with his little dog. I see this man every afternoon waiting for the bus, but he has never said hi before - not even once. Today, though, he smiled and we talked about, what else? the dogs in our building. He knows all the different dogs, and their breeds, of course. Whereas I'm all about the people. As you can imagine.

Leon turned around and asked me if I wanted to get out at the next stop, and I realized it has been a long time since we first met - that stop was my old stop, many years ago. I shook my head.

"I'll take the next one, though, I want to walk a little."

At the next stop, I said goodbye to Leon and to my building-mate, and I walked the rest of the way to work.