Waiting for the 24
Not a bus stop, but a blossoming tree near Stow Lake.
It was sunny until it wasn’t. The clouds came, hung low and spat rain. She was waiting for the 24 at the corner of Castro and Market, under the red wavy bus stop roof, trying to get back to Divisadero. An older gentleman stood next to her, clutching a wine glass stuffed with napkins. She felt him look at her. She wondered if he noticed her flushed cheeks and sweat slicked hair, a state of being that makes her feel more vulnerable than being caught in the nude. He said,
“Mind if I stand next to you? Got to take cover from this rain. I love this air though, it invigorates me.”
Smiling, he turned his head towards her as he rolled the ‘r’ in invigorates. He stood with his back straight, next to her under the bus stop. He was dressed for some occasion of life, wearing a newsboy cap and a hazel corduroy suit. She met his eyes only to see and try to ignore that the whites of his right eye were all red, more than blood shot, probably just blood, or so she thought. She needed to respond although a simple smile and nod would suffice.
“My mother calls this Pacific Northwest rain.”
He did not hop into reply and the bus was still five minutes away. She felt that somehow it was not so much about the rain, but how it feels or what is does.
“It is nice though, the air that is. It feels clean.”
“Exactly that. Clean. Washing the city away. I just love it when that happens.”
The older gentleman glanced down into his hands and noticed the wine glass stuffed with napkins. He shocked himself.
“I am a thief! I guess I really enjoyed this white wine. Please excuse me.”
He scurried off into Twin Peaks returning the glass. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds and the rain slowed. The newsboy cap wearing man returned in a matter of a jiff.
“Oh well, they are so nice in there, and an excellent happy hour… You know where we are right? Market and Castro, the apex of San Francisco. And this block has the best of everything. Marcellos right there, the best slice. My favorite sushi joint, just a block away…
He looked back at the street and the slanted intersection,
“You know I am only riding the bus for two stops, but I am not in the mood for the rain.”
She was unsure of how to respond, but hearing that she was in the Apex of San Francisco made having to wait for the bus all the more romantic. Something she has been trying to think of differently. Everyone in her immediate social circle had romantic agendas of some kind, everyone except her. It was a choice she knew that much, but sometimes a bar tab later mixed with dim lighting and other members of the San Francisco lonely hearts club within reach made her feel differently. Except in this case, it was 6:37pm on a Thursday and she was waiting for the bus and a man her senior talked to her about the rain. It was almost more Californian than driving someplace to go for a walk. She followed his gaze to the sloped intersection and then looked to her left. The 24 was approaching.
“You know, I have not been to Marcellos yet.”
“You haven’t?! Next time you need a slice, you have got to go.”
The 24 sighed as it bowed towards its new riders. The newsboy cap man payed as he entered, and he struck her as the type who would pay to ride the bus, even for two stops. She sat next to him as he sat next to a familiar face.
“You again! Where are you going? I’m only riding for two stops because damn, it is cold.”
“I am going home, 5 more stops for me. Just grabbed a slice though.”
“Did you go to Marcellos?”
“No, I went to the other place down the way.”
“Marcellos is much better.”
Another sigh and the bus took a knee. The newsboy cap corduroy suited man exited and she thought it was funny how he did not say goodbye to her, but perhaps he is that kind of person. The one who can talk because they can and like to. The kind that has time to kill before the bus arrives and does not mind an opportunity to do so.
