A man I encountered at an Upper East Side bus stop Thursday afternoon would benefit from seeing How I Learned What I Learned at the Signature Theater. I thought of him when I saw Ruben Santiago-Hudson’s brilliant performance two nights later, and wished I could give him a ticket. The man was standing at the bus shelter waiting for the M79 heading west. I’d smiled at him as I approached the corner, so when the bus pulled up and people started filing on, I extended my hand, in a gesture indicating, “Please go ahead of me, you were here first.” The man, stepped back, shaking his head angrily and said in a low, quiet voice, “No, I am a black man with a third grade education; I am vermin, I am low-life.” I was stunned. I extended my hand again and said, “Please, go ahead.” People in the line behind me were getting impatient. He repeated, this time louder, “I am a black man with a third grade education. I am vermin, I am low-life.” I wanted to cry out, “Wait a minute, this is me and you! I’m the person who just smiled at you a second ago, remember? And by the way, I don’t accept your view of yourself. I am telling you to get on the bus. You were here before me. Go to the front of the bus.” But he was dug in. I couldn’t fix this. I heard someone groan. I think the man is still standing there. I know I am. August Wilson would have known what to do.