Photo by Flickr user SlinkyDragon

Rush hour. Everyone’s tired. Everyone. Including the driver. But not the passengers.

I was on the 10-Townsend the other day coming home from Chinatown. Did the same ritual, boarded the bus, flashed my pass, found a seat, and we headed up the hill. At the same time, the back door was having a problem of closing and reopening itself.

At the same time, a couple more people got on at Stockton, and the bus started to get pretty noisy when it came to the mob of passengers mingling. Then, when the bus got to Mason, the back door started to open and close repeatedly without anyone stepping on it. Then, all of a sudden—–

Everything was dark and silent.

I looked around. Everyone seemed surprised and quiet as if someone had taken over the bus in a somewhat-deserted street with something that looked like a bus being the only thing visible. Fortunately, the bus I was on started up again and up Nob Hill the bus negotiated, and I got to my destination safely with a 12-Folsom bus following us!

Related posts:

1. ‘Let me off the fucking bus!’
2. Visual Rapists, Thieves, and Prada
3. Obit-lettes: 21-Hayes, 10-Townsend