Back of the Bus

I alternate between two different buses to get home at the end of the day. The 1 line is a door to door service for me but stops at every single block. It's frequented by the young financial district crowd and people who grocery shop in china town with those annoying pink plastic bags. If the thought of picking up new passengers at every corner is just too much I ride the 38. I have to walk a little bit more, but this bus zips along with just a few stops before I get off. It is unfortunately also the preferred bus of homeless people and rowdy teenagers who like to drink and smoke pot on the bus. Regardless of which bus I take I usually ride up near the front. It's full by the time I get on and it keeps a nice buffer between me and the homeless person stank/ pot cloud boombox party/ pink bag suffocation factor.

Last week I ended up in the back of the bus. My chiropractor (that's a blog entry in itself) is closer to the start of the 1 bus line than where I usually get on. After my appointment I jumped on the bus and found myself in the predicament of having to go all the way to the back. I took my time walking back there since I equate that area back there with all kinds of scary things after a very unfortunate ride on the 38 my first week in SF. But it was actually very civilized back there. I sat in the very last row between to guys in suits reading the newspaper. We discussed articles we'd read that day and where I should go to lunch for my year review. I half expected a string quartet to fire up and someone to come by with passed appetizers and a selection of fine wines. Who knew there was a safe haven hiding back there from me. I might walk the extra 5 blocks in the wrong direction just to become a permanent resident of the 1 line back of the bus crew. That is maybe if it ever stops raining here in SF.