Bus Report #1066

 After work I stopped at the grocery store with a plan to walk the rest of the way home.

Best intentions and all that - I made it most of the way back before the wind and my heavy bags got the best of me. 

I caught the 38 on a quiet corner of Geary, sat a respectful distance from an older woman watching videos on her phone, a student in a colorful mask, and a man who looked as though he'd been nodding off for a while. 

He was slumped in his seat, two backpacks at his feet, a thick, dog-eared, mass-market paperback entitled Law and Order half falling from his swollen hands. Skin sunburned red. Faded tattoos on both arms down to his knuckles.

The bus stopped short at the next light, startling the man awake, sort of. His movements were slow - as though he was underwater. He held the book in one hand and started patting his pockets with the other. 

Two syringes rolled onto the floor. He picked them back up and pocketed them again. 

As we pulled in to the 6th Avenue stop the man lurched to his feet, spilling the contents of his pockets onto the floor again. He scooped everything up - syringes, coins, small pillbox, orange needle cap - and then grabbed his bags and got out the bus. On the sidewalk he knelt and took everything out of his pockets again. 

A few minutes later, I got out at my stop and walked the rest of the way home.