It was beginning to sprinkle. For 6 weeks I’ve been longing for rain and there I was grousing about getting wet. Matthew and I had found a perfect perch on the Embarcadero, or what would have been perfect if the wind wasn’t so chilly, to witness the inauguration of the LED light show on the Bay Bridge, a $12 million artwork. Hmm, better be good.
The sprinkles became real rain just like that. A downpour. Were Matthew and I the only ones who thought a little ironic that the show was late getting started? Turn on the switch, Siri.
The lights finally came on. Five minutes later we, part of a damp herd, headed to the bus stop. The 14 Mission. The electronic sign promised arrivals in 7 & 17 minutes. Could be worse.
Succeeding alterations of the sign: 7&13. 7&17. 7&12. 6&9. 6&7. 3&7. 3&4. 1&3. 1&2. 1&2. 1&2. ARRIVING & 2. ARRIVING &1. ARRIVING &1. (No bus.) 9&10. 9&10.
When a bus at last came, the driver waved us off, saying he’s “ going only as far as 5th Street.” “That’s 5 blocks,” Matthew cried incredulously.
In the Times this week there was an article about a device that tracks your eyes and scrolls a page automatically, and another invention that allows you to change screens with the wave of a hand. Do you sometimes wonder if this is the best exercise of creative ingenuity? Personally I would applaud someone who could figure out why it’s impossible to space buses every 10 minutes on Mission Street. Is it because people actually use this bus? Somewhat ungentrified people but people nonetheless.
Never mind. I have a good idea: have the fleet who write traffic tickets take over the bus operation, and vice-versa. Every bus would be on time to the minute and the city’s economy would teeter on collapse.
A bus eventually came. It made its herky-jerky way out Mission Street.
“Another memorable occasion,” Matthew said.