Saturday, 8:05 a.m., Haight Fillmore - Union Fillmore

Every Saturday morning when I get on the 22 I am reminded of just how hard the working class works. Each double seat is filled with a Hispanic man, with his hood up. The man against the window is leaning his head, his face is smashed into the glass, and the man next to him is asleep on his shoulder. It is admirable, miserable and adorable all at once.
It is quiet. The fog is heavy and we, the Saturday workers, begin our journeys towards our invisible destinations of little consequence.
We sit in the back row.
A couple also boards and sits to our left. They beam with post-coital hipster glow. And in a sour morning mood I can't help but think, "You better use condoms."
The man in front of us sits alone and he takes out his phone.
And he pierces the air with -
"BAOOOOOO-WOOOOOOOOOW BAO-WOW-Wow-WOW BAAAAAOOOOOO-WOOOOOOOW BAO-WOW-Wow-WOW Ba-Bao-ner-ner-ner-NOW"
It's Sleepwalk by Santo & Johnny, the ballad from La Bamba.
He lies his grey-hoodied head back and let's whatever memory he seeks pour into him as he closes his eyes.
The T-Mobile Nokia emits just enough sound to play the song at the perfect diner level.
No one is speaking. We all look out the windows, where we can see nothing through the fog, but memories of lost loves or days spent with our brothers under weeping willows.
For a moment, we are not on the 22 at Geary and Fillmore with sirens going to give a shot of adrenaline to someone at Turk and Jones. We are each held by nostalgia and dripping, perhaps, just one tear of gratitude while listening to what I now know as chulo emo.
Fade.
And I'm so mediaized that I can here La Bamba's "Riiiiiiiitchie!" as if someone has said it.
The MP3 cuts to Ice Cube's Today Is A Good Day.
Almost all of us know the words.
We bob our head and exchange smiles. Some cannot resist bumping their hands, and why would they?
Even the couple, with bed head, wreaking of dollar PBR's, and I look at each other and I think, "I love you, you crazy kids."
I don't know about them, but we had a good day.

Friday, 7 p.m., Haight Fillmore - 16th Valencia

You see the bus coming toward you and it's just a black mass like a two ton black brick on wheels. There's no light shining through and you know it's packed - packed worse than sardines, more like one of those surprise snakes in a can. And as it sort of stumbles to the stop like a drunken sumo-wrestler, the door opens and vomits out two or three thousand people.
But, there is still no where to stand. I get on and I don't pay because I can't even get to the driver. People are crammed tight so I have to stand on the stairs. Many are in front of the sacred yellow line and we all keep throwing glances to the driver for spacial approval.
The bus begins to move and there's nothing to hold on to so the two strangers next to me and I get to second base.
And then...the roar.
It comes from the back and sounds like someone is roasting two hundred hyenas.
It goes something like.... ASFFFFEQPOHFEENSDVOEW BOYFRIEND MOTHERFUCKERAFGSBDAAAFASFas IPod QWDASNFwd qweiodasseqf Fuck YOu Bitch MotherFuqa qwwwfrqnniggeriofhaf Sit on Me Awedapushed me iwfdhasv WHatchoo Lookin at Bitch aSQEWFEFGsv Ipod alihqwf FAt aSS lknfiohewefd Get Off Me asfnnewiofhefwndiqwnd bITCH Q:WEFNwefw Mine mine mine!
We throw one another glances. Smirks. It is almost impressive how loud it is.
There is an elderly woman totally intrigued by the chaos. She's moving left and right on the stairs next to me trying to get a peep at who or what could possibly be causing so much noise.
"What in God's name is going on back there?" she asks wrinkling a brow full of lines from a thousand such similar inquiries.
And then the driver chimes in.
"I'll tell you what it is. It's a fuckin' show. They are on display right now. You think they do this at home?! You think they do this in front of their parents?! Mmm-mm. Nah-uh. But because it's nice and warm in here and they have a captive audience, they have to show off, like a bunch of fucking ignorant bastards disrupting everyone's ride. But if no one was payin' attention, they would shut the hell up! I'm supposed to be their papa? Naw-uh. Nobody cares about those kids and I'm tellin' ya, neither do I."
And then...silence.
And the bus driver says, "Aw shit, did I have the speaker on?"