This summer, I promised myself that I would take my shot at being a gemologist, that I would go on enough dates to find my San Francisco jewel, who is obviously very skilled at hiding. As it turns out, it is very hard to even keep a conversation with someone, let alone meet up with them, while working an anti-love life Chipotle schedule. So far, the three weeks of my summer vacation have been spent sleeping, on the Muni (bus), or at work.
Much to my surprise, my love life began to pick up on my daily bus commute. But, it wasn't the 100th cute guy who sat across from me. It was the beautiful saint of a bus driver, who so kindly waited for a sweaty girl running to the bus stop in her Chipotle uniform. I remember being taken back by his ginger hair and thinking, "What a cutie!"
A couple of stops later, this beautiful human catches my eye in his rearview mirror and says, "Now I want Chipotle." I, of course, assured him that he did not. We spent the next 30 streets making small talk, as he drove the bus, and all the elderly and people with disabilities who sit at the front of the bus smiled knowingly. As we neared my stop, I rummaged through my book bag to confirm what I already knew, there was not a pen or paper in my bag.
When it came time for me to get off the bus, I chose to exit through the front door, instead of the conveniently placed middle door, in order to say my last goodbye to my handsome chauffeur. Instead of my probably more effective phone number, I invited him to the restaurant where I worked, on the days I worked. He promised he would come by, and we said our goodbyes.
Much to my dismay, my bus crossed lover, has not come to visit me, yet.
The next part of my story starts at that same bus stop, where another bus driver, admittedly not as cute as the other, approached me. He made flirtatious small talk with me, informing me that his shift was over and that he had to drive home soon. He asked me if I needed a ride home since he wanted to delay his long drive home. I tensed up at the thought of a strange man offering me ride home in the middle of the night. I mean, I share my location with my mom and all, but I would've been long gone before her flight landed. As I opened my mouth to politely decline his offer, I thought back on all my mistakes, the people I loved, and all the pizza I hadn't eaten yet -- the bright headlights of the bus could not have shined at a better time.
As I rode home that night, I realized how easy it could've been for him to throw me in his car, have his way with me, and dump me somewhere in the Marin Headlands. And although he could've been a sincerely kind person, who wanted to make sure I got home safely, we will never know.
What we do know is:
1. Muni (bus) drivers have a thing for me
2. The rest of the SF boys need to get on the bus
Morals of the story:
Don't ever be scared to ask for a pen and paper to give a cute bus driver your number.
"Don't take rides from strange men unless they are bus drivers driving buses." — Jasmine Howling
