Monday PM

Getting home via bus is a little like trying to fly from the Portland,
ME to San Diego on Southwest. Every bus goes one leg of the route you
want to go, and after 3 or 4 transfers you eventually get there. After
a 30 minute wait the 30 stopped at market, the 45 just before the
Stockton tunnel, the 30 at Union and hopefully a 45 will take me up
the hill and home. Summer seems to be making an encore and it would be
nice to watch the sunset over the Gate.

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Friday AM

The 45 was nowhere to be seen this morning so I am on the 41, staring
in complete fascination and anticipation of horror as a woman applies
a full face of make up complete with eyelash curler and eyebrow
tweezing. The bus driver is anything but smooth with the gas and break
pedals but she carries on like an old pro, not the least bit concerned
she might gouge her eye out with any of her tools. She completes the
task in time for her stop avoiding all incidents with the exception of
an eyeliner smear that was promptly corrected.
The sun is out already and it looks to be a splendid day.

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Wednesday PM

Someone has taken the liberty of setting the contents of the trashcan
at the bus stop on fire.

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Wednesday AM

There is a man with a copy of Living Buddhism magazine. The topic of
the month is "What is Happiness?". He alternates reading with a
furrowed brow and making brief phone calls to yell at someone and
glancing anxiously around the bus over the top of his designer shades.
There is absolutely no sun out.

Captain buddha aside I enjoy the serenity of these early morning bus rides.
No pink sacks, no live animals, no spitting swearing or crowded
streets with suicidal homeless wandering out into traffic. Its quite
pleasant.

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Tuesday AM

South of market st the bus driver stops at a light that is threatening
to turn yellow. Twice. I have never witnessed this sort of behavior
before from a MUNI employee. Usually they gun the engine horn blaring,
often through red lights neverminding the yellow. The driver is not
the most genial soul I have ever come across so this probably is not
out of concern for our wellbeing, nor is the driver of an advanced age
where such tactics are to be expected. My hypothesis is that this
driver has gotten one too many tickets and has the paranoia; or the
city has installed red light cameras at the aforementioned
intersections that I failed to note.

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Friday AM

This morning resulted in a detour on the 41 to the T to Sunnydale. The 41 was exceptionally dull. The T is usually another story. Sunnydale, unlike the place of a similar sounding name - Sunnyvale, home to the quagmire known as Yahoo! - is in a less savory part of San Francisco and the average morning ride includes a couple of stocking-capped gang members grabbing their crotches, looking a tweaked and commuting to an ass capping party or someother event that requires a team jacket.

A gentleman who, based on his track suit, cap and glasses, is evidently under the impression that he is Sameul L. Jackson hopped up on meth decides that we are going to be friends, possibly even lovers. The dialouge ends with him promising to consider looking into getting a job so he can take me some place real nice. I want to recommend he shut down the lab and invest the money he spends on sudafed in some toothpaste but my contribution to the conversation was simply "Hunh? Oh sorry. I thought you were asking me for directions."


Verizon and Google appear to be in some sort of snit with Google refusing to publish posts.

Tuesday AM

Opting to take the 41 and transfer to MUNI to procure coffee on the
way to work from a place marginally more efficient than the Brick
House. There are seldom any outright crazy people on this bus but the
love child of Patick Bateman and Buffalo Bill is here today. Based on
his leather brief case he probably works in finance or law and he
wears a very well tailored suit and has a pointy nose and cold hard
grey eyes that seem to have no soul behind them. Fairly certain he is
looking for people with good skin to wear as a hat later based on the
way he eyeballs each matron that boards not with a look of lust and
desire but with a critical sizing eye.

The beauty of the 41, aside from its lack of routing through Chinatown
is that there is a constant turnover of people as the bus heads
through downtown. One woman is hunched over looking like she might
puke but really she is trying to have a private conversation on her
phone and she keeps looks around trying to assess if anyone is paying
attention. . One suggestion: if you want to talk on the phone and have
no one hear, the BUS during rush hour probably isn't the best place
for that call.

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Monday AM

The guy swho has chosen me, yes lucky me, as his seatmate smells like
he bathed in a spitoon and then dry rubbed himself with Drum tabacco
for added effect. I must have wandered onto the bus at a nonregulation
time since I recognize no one. This crowd seems mostly caltrain bound
based on the disaffection in everyone's eyes. Oh there might be a
touch of Kodiak menthol in the air. I may vomit.

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Thursday AM

The iPhone isn't just a shiny toy for dad - its also an excellent chew
toy for junior! Dad, unprepared for removal of saliva from the usb
port, is trying to fashion his tie into an effective absorbing tool.
Schools around the area are back in session this week which means a
slight decline in the average age of the morning commuter as parents
take their kids to the first few days. This novelty wears off rather
quickly as the average age will return to its seasonal norm by
mid-month.

The bus is overflowing, its hot and none of the windows are open. I
would remedy this if I could reach over the cadre of 8 year olds whose
parents have lost interest in ensuring they get to school. Something
is consuming the air with the yeasty smell of a brewery and I cannot
identify which pink sack is the culprit.

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Wednesday AM

7:15 AM 41. The last of the financial district stragglers are going to
work which means a lot of suits, copies of the Wall Street Journal and
Tory Burch flats. Tory Burch flats displease me with their large gold
medallion that consumes the entire toe of the shoe. Suspiciously
absent are the girls with the out of control hand bag volume to body
size ratio. I am as guilty as anyone of carrying a purse that can hold
a small Zulu village but never more than one at any given time. Some
of the FiDi girls rocks 2 or 3 simultaneously.

This crowd differs from the standard 45 demographic who typically read
the San Francisco Examiner and includes a minimum of one person who
thinks we all want to listen to crappy house music via their
headphones. Fortunately the token tourist who has no idea where they
want to go is on the bus. The bus driver must either be new or on some
new pills cause she is both helpful and courteous telling everyone to
enjoy the weather. MUNI transfer time.

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Monday PM

The BART between the East Bay and the city used to be a part of my
weekly ritual. I was used to the drone of the tracks and the carpeted
seats and floor, signs indicative of the belief that the feet and buns
of Bay Area residents are too good for plastic. The late night BART
police making the rounds at West Oakland in search of delinquents and
the loser stoner with the skateboard that would wander car to car
swearing he just needed one more dollar to make his fare. Few people
make eye contact and many rest drooling on the glass. One guy gave me
a nice hunk of kind once. Someone is always wearing too much leather
on a hot day and someone else is always too ambitious in their plans
to relocate an art installation via public transit.

I almost miss my connection at West Oakland. This is the tipping
point. The scene goes from urban to ghetto and vice versa depending on
if you are going east or west. A mall security guard who also is
employed at the guitar center is discussing the benefits of bike
helmets with a local cyclist who probably participates in critical
mass. Stupid activists. The guard likes to procure musical instruments
on the cheap for his friends but he doesn't tell the guitar center -
apparently they think he is a one man band.

There is a disproportionate number of dreadlocks on the BART. Burning
Man refugees come home perhaps. I am actively trying to avoid eye
contact with the cycling girl - the security guard has left and she is
looking for someone to discuss battery powered headlights with.

Off to catch a bus

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Wednesday PM

Dirty 30 guest appearance and there are no less then 3 people that
look as though they may commit a felony sometime this week.

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Monday PM

Dirty 30. Pretty sure those sounds i heard were the exhaust going
since the entire back half of the bus is sitting an carbon monoxide
inspired lethargy. Though that may just be the delivery vehicles
strewn about stockton. The bus is sparsely populated and the bus
driver seems to be enjoying a game of human dominoes anytime he gets
the chance.

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Friday PM

I escaped work a little early with the intention of getting in a bike
ride and some fresh albeit foggy air before a late happy hour. The bus
is already busting at the seams and scented with the cotton candy
sweetness of strippers. I dont see any clear heels peeking from the
mass but im pretty sure they must be incognito. The usual battle for
the backdoor begins at market. I am going to hunker down and go to a
happy place.

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ThursdayPM

Its the hottest day i can recall since moving to the bay area, a
giants game just got out and the guy sitting next to me is clammy with
sweat and beer clinging to a sack of cat food and there is a magenta
spandex camel toe at my eye level.

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Wednesday AM the sequel

I managed to forget my laptop at home and so i get the honor to
relive my morning bus experience all over again. Fanfuckingtastic. The
demograhpic the is outbound from caltrain is decidely older and of the
social services seaking variety. The bus is ripe with the scent of
warm food and everyone looks like they on the bus to the soviet
breadline with the knowledge that they are already late and their
excursion will be fruitless.

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Wednesday AM

Somehow gloira estefan has found her way onto my ipod. This is really
not the kind of early morning musical discovery i need to be making.
There is a gentleman on the bus with 2in flesh colored ear plugs;
they look like an unweildfy yet very smooth growth. Chinatown is just
starting to come to life and all sorts of olefactory experiences are
making their way into the shop windows. The bus is crowded without
being chaotic or abrasively loud.

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Tuesday PM

Detour on the 30. Snoop dogg is picking his nose in the mirror near
the front door. Apparently is was Safeway day as pink bags are trumped
by paper sacks.

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Monday PM

The guy standing next to me is either rainman or was recently abducted
by aliens and is trying to remember the quantum physics behind
traveling faster than the speed of light; and he''s'definitely not
rainman. The bus is rather crowded for 5 pm - shouldnt all these
people still be at work? traffic is at a crawl on stockton and the
shop keeps are hosing down their sidewallks.

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Monday AM

The beautiful summer in spring weekend ended as the fog horns breyed
to warn of the fog barreling into the city and the associated cold.
Though sunny the morning chills to the bone and thus no windows on the
bus have been opened. This is unfortunate as the bus smells like moth
balls and dough. The automated voice of the bus that announces stops,
thouhg not always the correct stops, and the DING of the stop
requested pull are not working so the bus driver announces each stop
and slows down casually only slamming the bus to a stop is he notices
people standing in anticipation.

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Thursday AM

After traveling on and off to scenic Las Vegas for a foreign investors
meeting in which i placed several small investments with a modest ROI,
i am back on my bus. Today is pleasingly mellow though heavy with the
wafting odor of fried dim sum items. The bus is full but no one seems
terribly interested in making a scene. This is an improvement over
yesterday when the nonsense babbling old lady in the peasant hat found
her way onto the bus. She has a tendency to yell at everything and
everyone, and also carry live animals in plastic bags which has
resulted in limited popularity with the bus drivers and other
passengers. Yesterday she was apparently upset with the sunshine as
she repeatedly looked up into it and enbarked on rambling and most
likely incoherent verbal assaults. The protection offered by her hat
seemed pretty comprehensive so i am not sure what the issue was.
Todays bus driver has a rather heavy foot on the brake which has
resulted in a domino line of toppling old people everytime we come to
a stop.

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Monday PM

A rather motley assortment of folks on the bus this evening including
a slightly crazy looking gentleman who appears to be testing each seat
to measure its comfort and view. None has proved satisfactory thus
far. As long as he isn't sitting in peoples laps during this exercise.
Apparently its hats and visors day - nearly every person that boards
the bus at kearny is wearing one. I wonder where they are coming from.
Presumably not a baseball game.

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Wednesday AM

Dear captain halitosis, I would really appreciate it if you could not
lurk right behind me blowing your rancid breath all over my very clean
hair. Thank you.

A girl is curling her eyelashes which I find to be a very daring
proceedure since the bus driver seems hell bent on playing human
bowling pins with the passengers today. A master of 4 inch high heels
even I have nearly toppled to an ankle rolling or knee dislocation
during this ride. Apparently there was a sale of rotton cabbage on
stockton today. Even after the bus has enptied of pink bags the odor
permeates the bus. The weather has taken a turn for the sun in recent
days which means its open season on black designer sunglasses.

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Monday PM

Apparently its educate your kid while spending quality time with you
on the bus day today. Plaid shirt dad is teaching his squirming
daughter some oragami with large sheets of pink paper. A couple of
tourists are looking cold in flipflops and shorts and the token $10
san francisco sweatshirts. There is an abundance of animal print and
chicken mcnugget smells on the bus this evening. I have no idea if
these are independent of each other. Buses must be running with some
measure of efficiency this evening as they are full but not crowded
and the back door is closing with ease. Someone is toting a giant cake
that likely has buttercream icing. It taunts me. Travel down stockton
is impeded by the crowds that are forced into the streets as vendors
hose down their sidewalks, removing bits of fruit and raw meat and
spittle debris. Animal print handbags are lined up on front seats- no
more mcnugget smell disproving any hypothesized correlation.

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Monday AM update

Crazy anxious guy with a wheeled cart that he somehow fit on the
overcrowded bus is having a nervous breakdown since the mystery of the
back door and how it opens is proving too much.

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