Bus Report #1006
Annie was my driver this morning, first time in almost a week.
"Where were you last week?" she asked as I got on. "I kept stopping and being like, where is that girl?"
I laughed. "I know, I think I was catching the earlier bus? Or the later? It was weird. Different people and all. It was confusing."
"Oh, man. Yeah. Just when you start to get used to the other passengers."
We laughed some more, and I sat down.
She waited for the elderly woman with a cane who usually just takes the bus one stop. It doesn't bother me. Sweet older woman. Always friendly.
Giant genie, folded into the seat across from me. His legs have got to be twice the length of mine, I swear. Coffee, Splenda, lotion. And repeat.
I got out at Bryant, did a Safeway and bagel run. Homeless men fighting in the parking lot, shoving over-full grocery carts at each other. One man did a strange little bow-legged jig. Everyone in the plaza watched but kept their distance. Someone went to get one of the Safeway security guards.
Minutes later, crossing the street, there was a 22 Fillmore bus parked at an odd angle in the crosswalk, empty of passengers, the driver obscured behind the back of the bus as he pulled down the overhead wires.
While I waited for the light at Potrero I saw the right-hand side of the bus: the front door window panel was smashed, a web of glass. An Examiner newspaper box lay on its side in the street. Had someone thrown the box at the bus? My vote was one, or both, of the men who had just been fighting in the parking lot.
Scary.
The driver came around front. It was Leon. He was preoccupied, his mouth set in a thin line, not his usual smile, or I'd have said hi. He got back on the bus and fiddled with the door a moment, before turning the bus around the corner and heading, I assume, to the yard.
"Where were you last week?" she asked as I got on. "I kept stopping and being like, where is that girl?"
I laughed. "I know, I think I was catching the earlier bus? Or the later? It was weird. Different people and all. It was confusing."
"Oh, man. Yeah. Just when you start to get used to the other passengers."
We laughed some more, and I sat down.
She waited for the elderly woman with a cane who usually just takes the bus one stop. It doesn't bother me. Sweet older woman. Always friendly.
Giant genie, folded into the seat across from me. His legs have got to be twice the length of mine, I swear. Coffee, Splenda, lotion. And repeat.
I got out at Bryant, did a Safeway and bagel run. Homeless men fighting in the parking lot, shoving over-full grocery carts at each other. One man did a strange little bow-legged jig. Everyone in the plaza watched but kept their distance. Someone went to get one of the Safeway security guards.
Minutes later, crossing the street, there was a 22 Fillmore bus parked at an odd angle in the crosswalk, empty of passengers, the driver obscured behind the back of the bus as he pulled down the overhead wires.
While I waited for the light at Potrero I saw the right-hand side of the bus: the front door window panel was smashed, a web of glass. An Examiner newspaper box lay on its side in the street. Had someone thrown the box at the bus? My vote was one, or both, of the men who had just been fighting in the parking lot.
Scary.
The driver came around front. It was Leon. He was preoccupied, his mouth set in a thin line, not his usual smile, or I'd have said hi. He got back on the bus and fiddled with the door a moment, before turning the bus around the corner and heading, I assume, to the yard.
posted by Rachel at 8:43 AM
2 Comments:
I hope you get the story from Leon the next time you see him :)
Oh, you know I will, Dani, or at least I'll try!
Thanks for reading!
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