While the two men sitting across from me were not wearing, "I'm not gay, but my boyfriend is" t-shirts, they certainly were gay. Enough time in San Francisco, and being a single little lady with a thing for six-packs, will quickly hone one's ability to, at singular glance, identify a man whom could cook a better quiche than me.
These men were actually dressed exactly alike. Overly tight, exorbitantly priced tees, relaxed, pressed jeans and very neat and clean Chucks.
One says to the other approaching Church and Market, "This bus can get pretty ghetto. And it's not because of homeless."
"Oh, really?" replies the other.
"All these black kids get on and are obnoxious. One goes to me, 'What you don't got a job?' And I was like, 'Yes, I have a job.' And he was like, 'Then why don't you get a car?'"
The two men exit the bus just as six foot tall penguin contemplates whether or not his hips, spanning that of three people, will fit through the Deuce Deuce doors. He decides not and continues waddling down Church Street.
-photo compliments of Henry Goins
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