The 22 Transfer

The 22 lets me off at the corner of Fillmore and Chestnut where I make one of two sorts of transfers. The first is the kind to curse. The second, also to curse. Okay, the first is a running forward curse. The second is a running behind curse.
At 7:40 am, the 22 to the 30 is an unreliable route. Fillmore street descends two steeply for the bus. So it moves over to Steiner. The bus cannot turn when a car is parked to close to the corner. If a Mercedes or Audi or a garage truck blocked the zigzag down the hill for five minutes all of us on the bus sat for five minutnes as the driver honked. On occassion the driver changes to a different line midway down the hill. “Everyone off,” he announces without warning. At that point, I am running the remaining 6 blocks to Chestnut.
Assuming I arrive at the corner of Fillmore and Chestnut, I catch the 30. The 30 runs turns off Chestnut at Van Ness to get over a couple of blocks to North Point. That runs into Fisherman’s Wharf where I’m going. During commutting times though, the 30 bus picks sides. Three of four 30 buses run as the 30X, the express bus to the financial district. It has fewer stops because its only purpose is to haul people in the Marina to downtown. Riders on the 30X wear ties, skirts and suits.
The leftover 30 buses took the rest of us. Schoolchildren, moms, dockworkers, construction workers and asian highschoolers rode nest to me.
In running kind of curse I step off the 22 to see the 30 is already at its stop, across the street. If I miss it, I get chewed out at work for being late. So I’m chasing after it. Some mornings I climb on just in time. Other mornings, I run for two blocks before watching it pull away from me. I arrive late.
For the second curse, I wait with the suits in front of a swanky Marina restaurant. A small group of them swells before the 30X collects them. Some mornings, I watch a handful of groups amass and board before a regular 30 comes. I tense up, one eye pegged to the clock as the minutes pass and no 30 bus whines up the street. 30X, 30X, 30X, finally, a 30. 7:55am. I hope there are no more snags. If there aren’t my boss won’t be on my case.

Riding the regular bus.

-J. Marchildon