“14 you say?!” one woman said.

“Yes, just 14, can you believe it?” another man responded.

“Wow, 14!”, another man said, and then another round of laughing.

“I just can’t imagine, you know, 14.” the woman reiterated.

The door opened to my floor, and as I exited I tried to make one more attempt to figure out what this mysterious “14″ related to.

Alas, as the door closed all I heard was “Man… 14. Geez”.

I had a sleeping buddy on the bus ride home. Shortly after getting on at Market, an early-30’s professional woman took a seat next to me. Short hair, too much makeup, Kaki pants, a business coat, white blouse, and a leather purse, she looked like she did some sort of middle management, or some other mind-numbing career in the financial district. I was too engrossed in my book, Rats, hoping to finish the last chapter during my 14 minute ride home to notice this woman had completely fallen asleep.

I didn’t take notice until her head was resting gently on my shoulder, the slightest dab of sleepy drool oozing from her lip. The bus would hit a bump, take a turn, or make a classic Muni “Gas+brake” maneuver, and she’d nod awake for a second, try to rest her face in her palm in a manner that looked like she was deep in thought, then fall right back over onto my shoulder. I thought about waking her, but the ring on her finger looked like more than a year of my pay, so I just elected to enjoy a sleepy traveler using me as a pillow.