I was sitting on the 38 Geary Blvd. bus in San Francisco heading downtown for some holiday shopping and like to at least pretend I’m not checking out the people on the bus with me.  I think it’s an unspoken rule called: “pretend everyone farted and don’t look”—no eye contact admitted. I like that rule since I can pretend I’m being incognito. Even though I am as obvious as a three year old, as long as no one catches me staring at them at that moment, I can claim adherence just as much as the next person.

I like the bus because it’s like a reenactment of weird news stories.  When I read those in the newspaper I can dismiss it too easily: “this stuff is all lies. Who would be that obvious/nuts/stupid?” On the bus it’s all real.

The people that scare me the most on the bus are those that hit the extremes on the social comfort scale. More often they are far, far too comfortable.  One afternoon a few years ago, on the same bus actually, I saw an older woman very meticulously lay down one sheet of tissue paper on the seat, presumably to protect her skirt from the seat germs. Then she dug around in her purse, pulled out a nail clipper and started clipping her nails as though she were in her private bathroom with a maid holding a trash can, leaping around to catch her flying objects.  The older woman would hold her hands out in front of her to check her work, then clip, clip, clip.  The nail shards and bits would fling out into the air while people would avert their eyes and pretend not to see.

Another example occurred on a Friday evening bus the week before Christmas. A woman got on holding one large department store bag and numerous smaller bags in each hand.  She made her way toward the middle of the bus and stopped in front of the back door.  Anyone who tried to get on or off inevitably tapped her bag and would get bellows of “I got PACKAGES!!” in their ear.  One girl in her early twenties was trying to move out of the way but couldn’t and said, “Where would you like me to go?”  The response was, “I don’t care! I got PACKAGES!”

While I’ve never in my life been comfortable enough to clip my nails or yell at strangers, I tend to think that’s a virtue when maybe it’s a sign of being too uptight. Even the thought of doing whatever I pleased feels a bit… refreshing, wild, nuts, a bit like a roller coaster.

On my last day in town I took the same bus to meet my sister for lunch and I saw a mother and little girl sitting across the aisle from me. The girl looked about four or five years old. She was next to the window and  kept sitting up straighter to  see as much as possible. As the bus went uphill slowly, it paused for a bit, then as it headed downhill the little girl raised up both arms and yelled, “Wheeeeeee!  Mommy, look! Wheeeee!”