The 49 to be exact.
And I realized how much I missed interacting with the mishmash of San Francisco.
The homeless guy who rushes the closing door of the bus screaming “Fuck you” as the doors close to start your ride.
The cute little Latin girl, all dressed up in a princess outfit-gazing into her attentive mother’s eyes. You think “These kids got it was better than those Marina brats, strapped into a car seat surrounded by treats to watch DVDs in the backseat while the mom multi tasks, yelling into her phone while she roots through her purse.”
Gay couples, getting older and less well dressed as the bus travels towards Polk Street.
A tiny Asian lady, who looks to weigh about 80 lbs but seems to be carrying 90 lbs of bags.
Always a hipster couple, this one all dressed in black-his mustache perfectly waxed and her lips vixen red. She sleeps on his shoulder and they sing to each other back and forth, trying to figure out some EMO song.
Finally, the ubiquitous yoga chick. She’s all sweaty, face red and glowing with that peaceful look of bliss that looks so familiar.
And, I thought-riding the bus was worth it to get to feel my city again.