Shared Moments

The MUNI is a vital player in my daily city existence. I still get a thoroughly suburban thrill from using the bus regularly to commute, and meet friends in different places, and run into people I know, or just share random moments with others also along for the ride. Yesterday, I was heading home before going out to the 49ers game (yes, you purists, I know it was preseasons and didn't count but FREE TICKET) - and found there are tons of express buses to Candlestick Park at my regular bus stop. I still needed to go home first to gather layers - not to do so would surely require the purchase of warm clothing advertising my allegiance to the Niners - but I took note for future reference. I saw that there WAS indeed a #2 bus at the very head of the line, so I picked up speed, weaved my way through lines of the milling-about, and got to the bus just as they closed the door. Bus didn't move, though, and the last guy on was digging in his pocket for change. I knocked on the glass, and stepped to the side where the driver could see I had a pass and wouldn't take up any time if he just opened the friggin' door - and he looked RIGHT THROUGH ME and waited for the other guy to get his bill into the fare machine and DROVE AWAY, leaving me yelling, "DUDE!" A MUNI overseer, who was chaperoning the crowds onto the express buses, also yelled, "HEY!", to no avail, then muttered under his breath "Prick." But offered me no personal consolation. I still felt a little better, though.

While waiting another 10 minutes for the next bus (GRRRRR), I saw a familiar face among the millers - the bass player from my friend's band. I went over to say hi, because he's a nice guy, and I want to recruit him for whatever band project I get together outside of Blue Bear. He's AWESOME.

I board my bus, earbuds in, eyes unfocused but taking in the general surroundings. As we stopped at a light along Sutter Street, I realized I was looking right at a guy who was sitting in a bar on the corner. He looked right back, and I decided not to refocus. Then he broke out in a goofy smile and waved, so I grinned and waved back. I described this silly, friendly moment to Lauren as we drove to Candlestick/Monster/Kind of a Shithole Compared to AT&T Park - and she asked if I remembered the great Dockers ad where the couple spies each other in street cars going different directions along the Embarcadero, and they both jump off their trains to catch the other, and have a moment smiling shyly at each other across the tracks. Clearly, I remember the ad - but I told Lauren, "Yeah, it wasn't that guy. It was just kinda funny."