Bus Report #584
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.