The 38-L and I met at a very opportunistic time, and I boarded a very, very crowded bus. I stomped out a spot with my giant overnight bag looped over my head and grabbed a bar. It was going to be a bumpy ride.
At Presidio a man in a truck drove alongside the heaving bus, a cat in his lap. At first I thought I had been mistaken, but no. That was a cat. Sitting in the driver's lap, its head out the window, whipping around, taking in all the sights.
"That is a cat in that person's lap."
I had to say it aloud.
A blonde girl with round cheeks did not look at me, but said, "That is a cat in that person's lap."
"I just had to say it out loud," I repeated verbally.
"I used to live in San Diego and there a man would ride his bike along the beach with a cat just CLINGING to his back. The cat always looked miserable, but it was out there every day."
I imagine the cat was indeed miserable.
At Divisadero more people climbed on at each entrance, the bus swelling with riders.
"I am not going anywhere until that back door is closed," said an exasperated driver. "I will sit here all day."
Someone's mom, no doubt, started barking orders. "Move up, move back, move up, move back," until the doors finally closed. "Cool!," she shouted, once the bus lurched forward.
An old man coughed and spit on the floor.