Bus Report #1004
Two mornings in a row I've caught the slightly earlier bus, so I've been riding with the Axe body spray guy, the unfriendly Russian woman (still Skyping her son, loudly, with random people in the background), and a handful of other semi-regulars.
There's a man who catches the bus every morning, homeless, maybe?, with a huge backpack and a stained leather jacket. I've seen him panhandling out front the Taco Bell a few times. Can't figure him out, not that he needs me to. He was quiet today, not aggressively barking into his phone as he often does.
The sky was a cloudy peach-orange-black color for a few minutes, then turned as orange as a needle cap, and then it was blue-white-yellow, the sun as pale as I've ever seen it.
It must be school season again, because the giant genie is back! Just as tall and bald and bearded as ever. Tanned. I wonder if my happy smile scared him as he slid in to a seat across the aisle from me. I can't help it. Love the giant genie. Love his morning routine. His balms and lotions and combs. His travel cup and his Splenda packets.
Watched today's driver alight from his seat and lean out the door to press the button to change the traffic lights up on Market and Clayton, then turn and sit back down. It was balletic, the way he turned and twisted stretched his arm into the lean, stepped back up into his seat.
Dolores Park, picked up a couple of grungy, wild-eyed guys. One of them struggled for several minutes to put his tiny bike on the bike rack. When he finally got on, he lumbered towards the back of the bus, his blue eyes bloodshot, every part of his body twitching.
There's a young woman who gets on at Mission some mornings, who works at McDonald's, according to her T-shirt. She's sweet. Always says good morning, smiley. She ran for the bus and caught it at the last minute. As she hurried in and took her usual seat across from me I grinned and said, "You just made it."
She nodded and grinned back. I hope she has a good day. She works at the Potrero McDonald's. That's a busy one, and a crazy one. How do I know? Crazy Tom used to be their locksmith, and Tom, well... he's a character. And if he says something is crazy out of control, I believe him.
At the garage, no sign of my friend Frank but his coworker - let's call him Aaron - was there. We said hi as we always do. A friendly man with a friendly smile. Pretty eyes.
There's a man who catches the bus every morning, homeless, maybe?, with a huge backpack and a stained leather jacket. I've seen him panhandling out front the Taco Bell a few times. Can't figure him out, not that he needs me to. He was quiet today, not aggressively barking into his phone as he often does.
The sky was a cloudy peach-orange-black color for a few minutes, then turned as orange as a needle cap, and then it was blue-white-yellow, the sun as pale as I've ever seen it.
It must be school season again, because the giant genie is back! Just as tall and bald and bearded as ever. Tanned. I wonder if my happy smile scared him as he slid in to a seat across the aisle from me. I can't help it. Love the giant genie. Love his morning routine. His balms and lotions and combs. His travel cup and his Splenda packets.
Watched today's driver alight from his seat and lean out the door to press the button to change the traffic lights up on Market and Clayton, then turn and sit back down. It was balletic, the way he turned and twisted stretched his arm into the lean, stepped back up into his seat.
Dolores Park, picked up a couple of grungy, wild-eyed guys. One of them struggled for several minutes to put his tiny bike on the bike rack. When he finally got on, he lumbered towards the back of the bus, his blue eyes bloodshot, every part of his body twitching.
There's a young woman who gets on at Mission some mornings, who works at McDonald's, according to her T-shirt. She's sweet. Always says good morning, smiley. She ran for the bus and caught it at the last minute. As she hurried in and took her usual seat across from me I grinned and said, "You just made it."
She nodded and grinned back. I hope she has a good day. She works at the Potrero McDonald's. That's a busy one, and a crazy one. How do I know? Crazy Tom used to be their locksmith, and Tom, well... he's a character. And if he says something is crazy out of control, I believe him.
At the garage, no sign of my friend Frank but his coworker - let's call him Aaron - was there. We said hi as we always do. A friendly man with a friendly smile. Pretty eyes.
posted by Rachel at 10:00 AM
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