Bus Report #584

Last night, feverish and foggy-brained while volunteering at a show at Bottom of the Hill. I managed to last most of the night but started to really feel sick and out of it before the headliners went on.
My manager and fellow volunteer took pity on me and told me I could go home, so I wandered outside to find my way back to the Richmond.
A cab stood idled in the bus stop, and I felt lucky as I went to get in.
"I'm on my break," the cabbie said, "so I can't take you."
"Fine," I said. I started towards the bus stop in front of the faded old Potrero Hill mural on Connecticut Street.
The image of OJ now completely obliterated, but I remember where it was.
The cabbie waved me back over. "I can take you to Potrero and 16th, you might have better luck over there," he said. "No charge."
I climbed in and rode with him to Potrero and 16th.
The neighborhood was quiet and empty except for a few people getting food at the McDonald's on the corner. I stood in the street and tried to hail another cab. I hailed anything with a light on, but the cabs, pizza delivery guys and regular Joes did not stop.
I was frustrated: sick, tired, cash in hand for a cab and a tip, and no one was stopping.
Fifteen minutes passed with no luck.
I saw a 22 Fillmore approaching, and decided to catch it, even though it meant a longer trip home.
I sat in the back of the bus with a trio of sleepy men.
The ride was fast, at least.
At Geary there were cabs dropping off and picking up people spilling out of the Fillmore.
As I crossed the street, a 38 Geary pulled up.
I didn't think I should argue, so I climbed in.