Bus Report #1037
Last night I had to get home to fix dinner for a couple friends who were on their way over.
And because I actually had to be somewhere, the 22 Fillmore was late.
Late enough I caught a 10 Townsend.
We hustled down Townsend until we got caught in the nightmare traffic that is always surrounding CalTrain. I turned the volume up on my headphones and made googly eyes at a cute toddler sitting a few rows up.
When we got out to Market I joined a crowd of people at the bus stop in front of Sutter Street Station.
A bus came in to our view and we all surged forward to see what it was, half of us then stepping back to let the others catch their 5R. A better kind of wave than you'd see at a ballpark.
The 38R was jammed when I got on. I managed to snare a spot where I could hang on to the pole.
More and more people piled in, or tried to.
Our driver skipped three stops but it didn't make a difference.
A sweaty, back-packed man stood pressed up against my side. His body was so warm, I could feel his heat through my jacket.
One woman could easily have grasped the pole right in front of her but she kept trying to grab mine, her arm knocking into a man's head each time she tried.
I had the overwhelming urge to sink my teeth into her forearm.
Luckily for everyone, I did not.
At Laguna a bunch of folks got out and I slid in to a seat opposite the door.
The emergency exit window behind us was open and flapping. I didn't mind the breeze but a well-coiffed woman in a business suit was concerned and she and her seatmate kept grabbing at the red handle and trying to shut the window. "I'll tell the driver when I get out," the woman said.
I hoped she didn't - I just needed to get home. Yeah, I was being a bad citizen, but I have no regrets.
The bus remained crowded the rest of my commute. I hopped out at my stop and took a few deep breaths of the cold, foggy air.
Half an hour later, our dinner was in the oven, the table was set, and the music was on.
The guests? Running late. Thanks to Muni.
And because I actually had to be somewhere, the 22 Fillmore was late.
Late enough I caught a 10 Townsend.
We hustled down Townsend until we got caught in the nightmare traffic that is always surrounding CalTrain. I turned the volume up on my headphones and made googly eyes at a cute toddler sitting a few rows up.
When we got out to Market I joined a crowd of people at the bus stop in front of Sutter Street Station.
A bus came in to our view and we all surged forward to see what it was, half of us then stepping back to let the others catch their 5R. A better kind of wave than you'd see at a ballpark.
The 38R was jammed when I got on. I managed to snare a spot where I could hang on to the pole.
More and more people piled in, or tried to.
Our driver skipped three stops but it didn't make a difference.
A sweaty, back-packed man stood pressed up against my side. His body was so warm, I could feel his heat through my jacket.
One woman could easily have grasped the pole right in front of her but she kept trying to grab mine, her arm knocking into a man's head each time she tried.
I had the overwhelming urge to sink my teeth into her forearm.
Luckily for everyone, I did not.
At Laguna a bunch of folks got out and I slid in to a seat opposite the door.
The emergency exit window behind us was open and flapping. I didn't mind the breeze but a well-coiffed woman in a business suit was concerned and she and her seatmate kept grabbing at the red handle and trying to shut the window. "I'll tell the driver when I get out," the woman said.
I hoped she didn't - I just needed to get home. Yeah, I was being a bad citizen, but I have no regrets.
The bus remained crowded the rest of my commute. I hopped out at my stop and took a few deep breaths of the cold, foggy air.
Half an hour later, our dinner was in the oven, the table was set, and the music was on.
The guests? Running late. Thanks to Muni.
posted by Rachel at 10:47 AM
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