Douche bag alert and regulation
My colleague Jeff and I were finishing up our drinks at 83 Proof around Midnight, last Thursday night-Friday morning – big shout out to Hazel and Mark, btw – after a hectic night of editin’, paginatin’ and copyeditin’ for the SF Examiner. While plotting our next move, Jeff suggested we go to the Toronado since we were going to the Lucky 13 – our regular Thursday night watering hole – the following night to drink with Muni Diaries’ own Jeff Hunt and Tara Ramroop, who are celebrating their recent engagement (Like it hasn’t been mentioned on Muni Diaries a hundred times already, but, I digress). So I says, “Since you want to go to the Toronado, I suggest we take the 6-Parnassus, cause it’ll drop us off right out front.” After some haggling and debate over the length of time the 6 will take versus the underground, Jeff acquiesced to my suggestion, and what a great decision that turned out to be.
With “trusty” nextbus on my cell phone, I saw that we had 5 minutes to catch one at Market and Battery streets. Five minutes turned into about 6 or 7, but the bus did come (thankfully) and we got on. I sat in the seat on the driver’s side that has that extra leg room, just behind the first row that faces forward. Jeff sat on the seat behind me, and at this time, we were the only passengers on the bus. As we head down Market, stop to stop, the usual mish-mash of folks slowly amble on, from the young man with the drum sticks and faux-hawk, to the late-shift restaurant workers getting off work, to the quiet, silent types with their headphones and glasses, to the crackhead who had a hard time getting his fare together who then sat behind the driver not far from the young man with drum sticks and proceeded to sing and talk to himself trying to make eye contact with everyone in the front of the bus. This caused young man with drum sticks and faux-hawk to move to the back of the bus, opposite the driver’s side, to the seats that face each other. He sat in the row facing the front of the bus. A couple stops later, wanna be alpha-male and overall-slick mother fucker douche bag gets on the bus.
Everything was going more or less as we had planned. We had a short wait at 20th and Mission, nothing out of the ordinary. Our inbound 49 arrived, and with ample seating. We plopped down on the back row, Tara and I, sitting on and surrounded by so much tagging, I remarked that it was so hideous, it almost came back to beautiful (the so-called Saturn effect). Sadly, I didn’t take a photo.
