RIDING THE 8X MUNI

A Muni Bus Stop

Walking up Bryant Street, I got to where it came to 6th Street where I made my turn for the one-block walk to the bus stop. The little bus stop was not there when I used to work at the Hall of Justice some 20 years ago. But there it was complete with digital readings that inform riders of the bus schedules. It said the 8X to Bayshore & City College was arriving in 7 minutes. Soon there were three of us waiting for this bus and a Muni Inspector and a driver who would take his shift from the driver of the oncoming bus. I fingered my 3 quarters in the pocket of my jeans, making sure they were there. It only costs 75 cents for seniors fare.

My 8X Muni Bus

Not bad, I see the 8X coming to the stop almost to the minute of the schedule. Soon it crossed 6th Street and pulled over to the curb. It was packed. It stopped a ways from where I stood, and the last of its three doors opened to let me in. However, not knowing the bus riding drill, I ran to the front door and got on the steps. The Muni Inspector yelled at me. “Wait.” She wanted me to let the replacement driver on first. I obediently got off the bus. I followed the driver back on the bus. He yells at me, “Board through the back door.” My goodness, don’t these people know how to talk normal? Just because I have lots of gray hair does not mean I couldn’t hear them without their yelling. So, again, I got off, went to the back door and squeezed my little body in between the other bodies packed in there like as they say, sardines.

 

The bus lumbers on to the Harrison Street freeway on ramp. In between bodies, I stick my hand out to one of the poles that had a few others hanging on to it. My short arms couldn’t reach up to the hanging straps. In about 10 minutes we got off the freeway and on to San Bruno and Felton. San Bruno has become sort of – Chinatown
extension with Asian grocery stores, produce stores, bake shops and restaurants. We made a left turn and the bus pulls alongside the curb. Passengers get off. I made a quick look to see if there were any seats vacated. Aha! A senior seat. I plop down on it and my feet dangled a few inches off the floor. I’m 5-foot tall and there are not many of those inches in my legs, so my feet tend to dangle from these Muni seats.  

When you’re a senior citizen, you can get away with some things like staring. I am a nosy one, so I look at the passengers. I visually examine the plastic grocery bags they carry. You know, those ones that you get mostly from Asian stores. This way I find out what they have just purchased, or what would be for dinner tonight. I see a young college student gripping the handle of her suitcase. I wonder, is she going home to San Francisco or is she coming back to school from another state? Sometimes I make up stories in my head. There’s an old Chinese couple arguing. I don’t understand a word of what’s being said, but I think the wife is getting the better of the argument. Their stop was Bayshore and Arleta. He got off first leaving her behind, way behind.

The bus made a right turn onto Sunnydale and a few more passengers got on. A young Asian mother with a cute, little boy no more than 5 years old, sat two seats away from me. The little boy sat next to an old Asian man, possibly in his 70’s. He looked at the old man and smiled at him. The old man smiled back. Then the boy put his hand in his pocket, fumbled with something and pulled out a piece of candy which he offered to the old man. The old man smiled and held up his hand as if to say “No, thank you.” The little boy smiled again and held the candy closer to the old man’s face. He would not take a “no.” Finally, the man took the candy, unwrapped it and put it in his mouth. The boy and the old man smiled at each other. And that was that.  

I was prepared to dislike having to take the bus. That was three months ago. It had been awhile since I’ve taken public transportation in the City. I have now become somewhat of an old pro at it. When the driver drives the bus clear to the very front end of the bus stop, I know he wants me to go to the third door and board there. I then get on, wriggle my little body in between other bodies to find a pole I can hang onto. I’ve also learned to spray a little perfume on me before I leave for the bus stop. This way, I have a more pleasant scent to make the journey home with. I’ve also met some very friendly people. They are regular riders and they now recognize me when I get on. More often than not, my gray hair would get me a seat. I become witness to everyday dramas of life. There was a handsome black man in his thirties talking on the phone to his wife, who wanted to buy a car. He asked her all kinds of questions. I admired his patience and tact as he tried to make sure she didn’t buy the car just because “it looked nice.” Then there was a young lady who gave me her seat soon as I got on. I thanked her profusely. She said, “I’m close to my stop, anyway.” I watched her but she just hung on to the strap. After awhile someone got off and she got a seat. Then a couple of European tourists got on. Again, she offered her seat to the wife. Soon the passenger next to me got off; the young lady took his seat. I told her how gracious she was, having given up her seat twice. “Oh, that was quite ok with me.” Then we got to talking. She told me where she lived and how fortunate she and her husband were to find affordable housing in the city. They were fresh immigrants. We both got off at the same bus stop. She lived half a block away from me. 

Taking the 8X bus has been quite interesting. People continue to interest me.  I don't think there is anything more fascinating in the whole creation than people.  Oh, yes, I’ve seen and met some crummy people, too.  They are more difficult to write about.