The man with the cell phone welded to his ear walked to the wrong spot at the wrong time–about 10 feet into the street near Castro & Market. But the driver of our 24-Divisadero bus (African-American, 50-ish, dreadlocks) had skills that equaled his alertness and swerved around Mr. Cell Phone, who had no idea that a bus almost as big as a Humpback Whale had to duck around him. One of my fellow passengers said, “Idiot has no idea we’re here, he’s stoned out of his mind. At least he’ll die in the right city.”
At which point two college-aged Caucasian girls, both with boots over blue jeans, one with a yellow sweater, the other with a yellow-and-white scarf, boarded the bus, Ms. Sweater checking the NFL scores (“Omigod, the Jets suck! Oh, no, my Saints lost!”), whilst Ms. Scarf tugged on Ms. Sweater’s arm and asked her, “Hey, that guy on the sidewalk, is he eating a banana?”
The bus driver, who possessed peripheral vision equal to his skills and alertness, said, “Ladies, that is not a banana.”
Ms. Scarf said, “Looks like a banana.”
“Not a banana, Miss.”
Ms. Sweater asked, “Is that a cookie?”
Ms. Scarf said, “Yeah, that’s a cookie.”
“Omigod, that’s a penis-shaped cookie.”
The young women stared at the cookie.
Ms. Scarf said, “I wonder if that comes in chocolate.”
To which I can only add, welcome to my town.
Vonn Scott Bair