Last night, I met the wife at 65th Street and we rode home together. Her bus never showed at Starfire and rather than wait for the next bus she came down to 65th Street. The wife never has trouble getting to work, but the ride home -- at least the connection with the bus at Starfire -- has proven to be very hit or miss. Since the bus route starts just down the street at the Watt/Manlove station, it is really hard to understand what the problem is. The only thing reliable is the unreliability of the bus.
Anyway, we were joined on the bus yesterday by the father I mentioned in the previous post, sans infant daughter. As he was packing up his laptop computer and preparing to get off the bus I mentioned that I had seen him on the morning bus.
"You've misplaced your daughter?" I asked.
"No," he laughed. "She's with her mother." In the course of a brief conversation I learned that his girls are 1 and 5.
Tonight, I was riding home alone. At Sac State the guy boarded again, this time accompanied by his 5-year old daughter. They settled in the seat behind me. I tried to read my book but I wanted to see what was going on behind me. Finally, I said hello and we ended up talking until he and his daughter left.
To show you just how socially backward I am, this was the first conversation of any length that I've had with a fellow rider. (Not counting the wife, of course.)
He's a political science student; his wife is a substitute teacher. Once he graduates she'll go back to school to get her master's in cultural anthropology. His interest is in the third house -- lobbying. The kids attend the preschool on campus. Beyond the simple convenience, he says the kids benefit from the enthusiastic volunteer support of Sac State students applying what they're learning about early childhood education.
Ah, to be young again, with everything ahead of you.
The Manchester United soccer fan from the morning before was riding home tonight, this time boasting support for the St. Louis Rams. Having been raised in Los Angeles when the Rams were the hometown team, I've never been able to transfer my allegiance to today's Midwestern edition of the team. When I was in high school I had an after-school job delivering furniture. I remember delivering a sofa to the home of Roman Gabriel, the Ram's quarterback. It was a nice neighborhood. I remember wondering at the time if Gabriel's neighbors knew he was the Rams' quarterback.
Random thoughts strung together.
Just another unremarkable -- and enjoyable -- evening on the bus
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