He was thin, malnourished, or, perhaps, nourished on all the wrong things.
He had a cane that he didn't really use, although, he moved slow shaking with each step.
If you gave E.T. the crack-cocaine for 20 years and laid him in the sun in an alley way, well, you get the idea.
As he stands to exit at 16th and Guerrero, I can already see what will happen. Three wobbly steps toward the bus exhaling closer to the ground for an easier exit and WHOOP! pants below the ass.
Full moon charred E.T. ass for all to see.
And he doesn't know. But, we do.
I'd tell you if you have a booger hangin' on the front porch, if your zipper is down, if there are small, cotton undies stuck to your sweater or if there is a trail of toilie on your shoe. But, something kept me six rows back from jumping up to pull up this man's pants and we all just looked away.
To be honest I made the choice not to sit next to her.
I was smelly, but she looked smelly. She had fewer teeth than tribal citizens being immortalized by the HGP. So, I stood and hung on and tried to look past myself through the window out into the night.
A man drunk from celebrating another long day of what appears to be construction work boarded.
"I have tattoos too," he said pointing at the scribbles on my underarm. Stumbling down the aisle he lifted his shirt sleeve.
He put his head far too close to my armpit which for my entire life has resided directly next to my left tit.
"What's it saaaaaay?" And I pulled my arm down.
"Nothing. A secret," I responded, eyes deadpan.
"Coooome on," he slurred, dangling like an orangutan.
And then, "It says 'Leave her the fuck alone." The woman sitting to my right, next to a vacant seat, piped up.
"That's prolly what it says? Yeah?" she asks me.
"Actually, yes," I said smiling down at her and taking a seat. "That's exactly what it says."
I'm sorry. Sometimes on the Deuce Deuce I have a hard time looking past myself.
My posting “Fare or Fair” was sent to me by a reader with a note that said 'this was a part of an effort over ten years ago.' The reader was astonished in looking over it how the problems that were occurring then are still the problems that are occurring now and that he was surprised how one could not decipher without knowing the date that this information was ten years old. To me, interesting.
Am I calling for a fare strike? No. Would I call for a fare strike? Sure. Does a fare strike solve anything? Yes it does. Is a fare strike timely? Granted we have just been hit with an increased fare strike, another may well be on the way, but that matters not to me. Just because I pay my two dollars every day since July does not urge me onto any platform of acceptance. I spent the summer abroad in London, Spain, Italy and other drool-inducing countries. I paid much more than equivalent of two dollars for transit nearly every day. But, I got what I paid for. Think of the concept of “priced to sell.” Apple loves this concept. A MacBook costs somewhere in the range of say $1400 and is expected to last with excellent care about four to five years. Apple could very well make a laptop that lasts longer, but it would cost $4000 and no one would buy it. So, we accept in our purchase that balance, that what we are getting is a mediocre product appropriately priced for its service. When I board the underground in Barcelona for five Euro I know it is going to be clean, it will arrive quickly usually under five minutes, it will be right on time, get me to my destination on time and be a safe ride. Muni is dirty, late, slow, inconvenient and dangerous. Point being, given the economics of transit, San Francisco is one area where one does not get what they pay for. Secondly, I do not believe in fare increases in the same way that I do not believe in sin taxes. Simply, it scrapes the people in the lowest bracket of income. Big tobacco takes a lot of heat for how much profit it makes from selling cigarettes. But, about fifty percent of a pack goes to the government; that is, hello, the government is profiting big off of tobacco. And no one seems to mind either that they profit from Muni - what should and could otherwise be a public service. It is not functional and otherwise crappy to save our system through means of our poorest citizens. Is fare evasion why we are in this mess? Is it all the little mongrels that I see jump in the back door at Haight and Fillmore every morning? I will give that argument the benefit of the doubt. But, I still say, don’t pay. Because… Not everyone runs a blog. Not everyone is running for political office. Not everyone has the educational opportunities, the agency, the time, the confidence, the fortitude to write something, organize something, say something or do something. Fare strikes are a uniting means of passive protest. They will not solve the Muni problems, but they are a way of focusing attention where attention ought be focused on an unfair fare.
She sat on the steps and said, "I don't understand what is with the bloodlust."
Bus #1 - Four early teens are running down the street. "Stop the bus!! Let us On!" They board.
"Aw, man. I can't believe that! She messed her up good."
Three others are running and the four aboard go to the windows to make fun of them.
"What was with that bitch, all she did was say "Scuse me, can you move back?""
"But, in her defense, she did have a baby in her arms and like six kids with her. She kinda couldn't move back."
"But you don't gotta freak out like that. You can't move back then you just say you can't move back. She wouldda freaked out on me like that I woulda killed a bitch."
Bus #2 - "This woman with like a baby in her arms and then this other chick like wanted her to move back and I don't know. I don't know. I can't take it anymore. I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know how I'm gonna get to work, but I'm over it. I'm just over it. She was like, 'You mess with me I got a baby in my arms.' And I'm all like, "Yeah, awesome Mom, you're fuckin' fighting, literally fighting like pulling hair, while you're holding your baby and all of your other kids are like looking at you fucking frightened. And the little Mexican ladies were freaked. They were like terrified. Yeah, she like messed with her hair and shoved her off the bus. I can't handle it anymore. I'm so over it."
Bus #1 - Three more board. "I didn't think you was gonna catch up!" "Man that was awesome. She messed that girl up! The rest of them didn't make it - they gonna be late."
Bus #3 - "There was a fight and I had to wait for another bus. And I just posted a comment on YouTube about another fight. I don't understand why people are so into it. People on the next bus were all 'Man, I wish I would have been on that bus. I wanna see a fight."
The Deuce Deuce serves to explore through narrative how the 22Fillmore is a socio-political microcosm. If you don't agree with me, you've probably never ridden.
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