Bus Report #1047

Two days in a row, sweet Olga on my bus.

Yesterday she arrived at the bus stop, wincing and pressing her hand to the small of her back.
"Oh no, did you hurt your back?" I asked her.
She shook her head. "Is no good," she said.
The bus was still far enough away that I couldn't read the signage, but Olga nodded and said, "Is three three."
"I don't know how you can see that, I can't see anything." I shook my head and waved my hands near my eyes. Rachel sign language for, I can't see anything, these things barely work.
She just grinned. "Is three three, you see now?"
And I did.

This morning Olga and I waited together for the bus, which was a couple minutes late.
I think she was trying to teach me some French but I didn't understand.
"No English," she said.
"No French, no Russian," I said.
We laughed and stood there together, and waited.

Yesterday afternoon, 22 Fillmore. The nice driver who used to be our delivery guy stopped and I got on. the bus was fairly empty for that time of the evening - but no one was complaining.

At Potrero Center a man got on carrying a dog bed and a huge bag from the store. As we rode down 16th I watched him take everything out of the bag and go through it on the seat beside him.
They were really cute little outfits - rompers and something with a hood and bunny ears, and a little yellow rain slicker. For his child? No, I realized a moment later. They were dog outfits. He was carefully going through about ten dog outfits in various sizes.
I couldn't figure it out. Were they for him, and his dogs? Dogs of a friend? How many outfits does a dog need?
At Mission Street he packed everything back up, and disappeared into the plaza and down into BART.