The Woman at the Corner of 2nd and Folsom

photo: walkingsf/Flickr

I got on the bus at 2^nd and Market and edged my way through the crowd until I found a spot where I could stand next to the backdoor stairwell. The bus bumped along 2^nd Street like a dune buggy in an off road race in Baja. Despite the crowd, it was quiet, with the only audible sounds a few hushed conversations, rap music coming out of someone’s headphones, and the rustling of backpacks and shopping bags.

I opened my book and began to read, one hand splaying the book open and the other hand holding onto the pole in the middle of the stairwell. I was facing sideways toward the west side of 2^nd Street. I was not paying particular attention to my surroundings.

Suddenly the bus slammed to a stop and I was thrust forward. I tried to hang onto the pole and I was spun around and dropped my book into the stairwell where I had fallen.

I got back to my feet and looked toward the front of the bus to try to find out what had happened. Having ridden the buses of San Francisco for over twenty years I was not unused to sudden stops like these.

Photo: kevin-prichard/Flickr

I picked up my book. I expected the bus to continue moving again. When it didn’t I looked out the window and oriented myself. The bus had stopped in the middle of the intersection at 2^nd and Folsom. Why would we be stopped at such an inopportune location? The most plausible answer was that the pole connecting the bus to the electric wires above the city streets had come unattached. But the driver was still in his seat and was not out in the streets trying to reconnect it.

The bus driver did not say anything and from my vantage point in the back of the bus I could not see outside very clearly. The passengers on the bus began to talk and complain and inquire about what was going on. The driver made no announcements and would not answer anyone’s questions. He continued to sit in his seat.

When it became apparent that the bus was not going to continue its route, people in the front of the bus began to exit. I tried to exit out the back doors but the doors would not open. I waited as the line of people moved forward to the front of the bus and exited.

While I was waiting to move to the front of the bus, sirens from police cars and an ambulance and a fire engine filled the air. The hustle bustle of the city streets was reduced to background noise. A police officer came onto the bus and ordered everyone to get off the bus.

As I stepped off the front steps into the street, the cause of the sudden stop became apparent. Lying in the street about five feet diagonally from the bus’s front right tire was a young women. She was semi-curled up with her hands by her side. The white of her face contrasted starkly to the dark of the asphalt. Her eyes were open, but motionless, and she stared straight ahead at the giant tire of the bus.

I walked by her and looked at her briefly. She seemed to be breathing. I saw her cell phone about ten feet away from her next to the curb in the gutter. One of her shoes lay in the street behind her, and her bare foot had a small scrape near the ankle. The driver got off the bus and covered her exposed legs with his jacket.

Two paramedics attended to her and told people to clear away. The bus blocked the intersection and stopped traffic in all directions. Pedestrians and passengers hung around unsure what to do. People made phone calls and speculated about what had happened. Drivers honked angrily. Pigeons cooed on the top of streetlights.

I overheard conversations. One person said the woman was texting on her phone as she stepped off the curb against the light. Another person said the bus driver tried to make it through the yellow light as it was turning red. No one seemed to be certain. Two cops got a witness report from a man who was sitting near the front of the bus. He said he didn’t know exactly what happened either.

I stayed off in the distance a little bit. The paramedics lifted the woman into the ambulance. The ambulance sped away with its lights flashing. The bus driver paced back and forth on the sidewalk. Eventually, there was nothing left to see. There was nothing anyone could do. We all had to get on with our days, and so we all went our separate directions down 2^nd Street or down Folsom.

I tried to find out what happened to that woman. Over the next week or so I looked online, I read the local papers, and I watched the local news. I didn’t hear or see anything. I don’t know what happened to her.

I still think about her sometimes.