I love using my time to take Muni routes around the city and find it a fabulous way to see and hear what's going on. I use to do this while in graduate school, it fueled my thinking and writing time.
Hungry for real Southern fried chicken, I made my way out the T-Muni line on Third St. to "Auntie April's" in the Bayview District. With closing time at 4pm, I figured getting there around 2pm for a late brunch and traveling in broad daylight alone would be fairly safe.
I boarded across from the Cal Train Station, there were a few others waiting, including a very large young black woman with two men. She spoke loudly peppering her expressions with numerous iterations of the "f-word". We ended up sharing the same trolley car. She continued on loudly as if to attract attention to herself on purpose and at one point made a display of zipping up her jeans. I concluded she had a jean's zipper problem, you know those zippers that no matter what one does to try and ensure it stays zipped, it doesn't? I have a pair of those.
One of the men appeared to be a lost soul, skinny, potentially jumpy but still. He kept to himself while hugging a full unopened fifth of liquor under his jacket and a small brown paper bag. The other man appeared older, calm, quietly in charge.The young woman finally sat down. With earplugs linked to her phone, we listened as she sang along pitch perfect to some rapper deliver a litany of "f-laced" travails. We listened again when she replayed particular points that she admitted out loud to identify with---we learned the only thing she personally had not experienced yet and survived was cancer.
I wanted to tell her that she had a nice voice. Instead, I decided it best to not engage. I listened and looked out the windows at the neighborhood along Third Street taking in how the area has changed, learning how we have changed.
The three of them left the train several stops ahead of me. The young woman lugged a heavy canvas bag filled with various bottles of liquor. She happily boasted to two younger teenage girls she knew (and who had just boarded) that she planned to sell the bottles. I wondered where and how these bottles were acquired in the first place.
I wondered why this young woman chose to live her life in this way---the way--- is what I imagine, the conclusions drawn about her life from this brief encounter on a Muni trolley in the middle of a sunny day in San Francisco.
After disembarking, I crossed to the sidewalk along Third St. heading to Auntie April's. This is not something I would do at night. The storefronts are bleak, two forlorn people sat on the sidewalk, their backs against a brick wall, literally. I walked past two healthy young males squatting near a corner storefront. Observing them, I found myself channeling 'don't even think about trying something'.
Once inside Auntie April's, I relaxed. The waitress greeted me with a broad smile, she was warm and adorable. After bringing me a glass of unsweetened ice tea, I ordered the two piece fried chicken topping an original waffle. Yum. Made-to-order Heaven!
A little old lady carrying a cane moved from one table to the window table near me. People who knew her waved as they walked by. April, April's Mother, and the waitress all checked on her. When she stood to leave, she turned to me and said "have a nice day". I thanked her and said "you too" and how much I liked her outfit, a cerulean blue sweatsuit like jacket and pants.
Stuffed to the gills, I left the warmth of my Auntie April experience to walk over to the T line trolley stop. The sidewalks were clear except for a man holding a beverage can outside a corner store, maybe a bar. I walked past him with my hands on my hips, stretching my back and stood in this position while waiting for the streetlight to change.
"Hey, Mama! Whatchu do'in standing all up with your hands on your hips?! "
I turned back laughing and walked towards him. "I'm stuffed, just left Auntie April's."
"You need to take a long walk then!"
"I am walking, right over to that T stop."
"I'm Johnny, nice to meet you", he smiled holding out his hand.
"I'm Nancy", smiling and shaking his hand
"You have a good day, now."
"You, too!"
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