‘So we stop at Sacramento Street (just before the tunnel), and a whole group of people want to push on to the bus. Everybody at the stop manages to squeeze in when there is a bit of a commotion at the front.
An old Chinese lady (I am assuming she was Chinese) was holding in her hand a live chicken. She was holding it by the feet and, as a chicken in such a situation would do, this particular chicken was squawking up a storm.
The bus driver (a large African-American gentleman; this was back before a majority of the drivers became asian) was standing up, pointing at the squawking chicken, telling the lady, “Hey! You can’t come on the bus with a live chicken!”
Anyone who believes the Chinese people (or asian people) in San Francisco cannot understand english is completely naive. They understand. Oh yes they do. [..]’