Bus Report #1014

Several mornings in a row, just me and the sweet Russian woman in the bus stop.
Ever since she taught me how to say good morning in Russian, I greet her with a hearty, "Dobroye utro!" and she laughs and says it back to me, and then says it in English.

Monday, the bus was late - or just didn't show up. We waited, and waited, and when the bus pulled up she tried to get me to go first. I shook my head. "Nope, it's all you," I said.

We got in, and sure enough it was crowded enough for two buses.

I sat in the back of the bus, the garlic tea woman right nearby with her noxious tea. I want to say something, I really do. But she wouldn't stop. I know she wouldn't.

The mom with the older son and the younger, probably autistic son got on, said good morning.

Later, getting out at Potrero, I had to maneuver around a man wrapped in a filthy duvet who stood in the middle of the sidewalk, twirling.

Across the street at the garage, I chatted for a moment with Jim and the younger guys who work there.

Walked the rest of the way to work, past fat crows and a pigeon so fluffy it looked like he was wearing leggings.