At 6:00 pm, I charged across Alma Street. A train was leaving, but I wasn’t worried. Maybe the 5:56 pm train was late. But minutes passed. That was not the 5:56 pm train and I stood with all the other unhappy passengers. I walked down the stairs\u00e2\u20ac\u201dor at least took the cement railing balancing my backpack of laundry and a laptop.<\/p>\n
Wireless signal received<\/i>. I checked the caltrain<\/a> twitter. Not again. Someone down in San Mateo about an hour ago. My Mondays got worse.<\/p>\n At 6:30 pm, I finally boarded the baby bullet train and promptly fell asleep. I didn’t awake until we were halfway up to the city and suddenly I was overburdened with anxiety. Was a bus driver going to yell at me again? Was I wearing enough clothes? Should I even cook today?<\/i><\/p>\n It was 7 pm when I got to the bus stop outside the 22nd street station. It was 30 minutes later that got onto the bus, having built up a tolerance to the freezing weather in my t-shirt and skirt. So much for the high 70s weather predicted for San Francisco that day.<\/p>\n Fortunately, as I gave the $1.50 pass to the driver, she looked at me confusedly. I have no idea…<\/i> she started and handed me a transfer. I mumbled, I have 50 cents…<\/i> but then stopped completely when she just kept saying yeah I don’t know<\/i>.<\/p>\n I stumbled to a seat and collapsed, relived that I wasn’t yelled at saving 50 cents.<\/p>\n About 10 minutes later as we were winding down the backside of Potrero Hill, we heard what sounded like small bullets on the window. Rocks or BB gun. I looked at the bus apathetically, wishing I was back at my place. I wanted to whine once again about the commute. But then I saw the damage as a bus driver off duty was screaming at someone in the darkness. She blocked traffic as she told another bus driver to avoid that street. They be throwing stuff,<\/i> she yelled. Take another street.<\/i><\/p>\n At 24th and Potrero, we pulled out and was told it was the last stop. I sighed. It was near the pizzeria of the weekend’s Mission gang shooting<\/a>. I have always been admittingly naive about living the Mission…walking down Bartlett at 11 pm with bags. Even now armed with pepper spray, I was wary. I passed by a small shrine of flowers and crosses. There were women, girls…lighting candles as a few people whispered about the tragedy that had fallen less than 48 hours before. Two blocks away up on 24th, a local news station van was parked with its satellite arm reaching high in the sky.<\/p>\n I think I don’t want to live in the ‘burbs<\/i> I thought again for nearly the 30th times this month. I trudged home in the darkness, besieged by the many taquieras, but stumbling into my apartment at 8 pm eating only sunny side up eggs and 6 tomatoes and 20 candies.<\/p>\n I also sprayed my waters gently. The branch that I cut off last week was gone, but it was still living. Exhausted, I collapsed in my chair. Finally figured out Skype and watched Glee…suddenly wishing that I could be a teacher too.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" At 6:00 pm, I charged across Alma Street. A train was leaving, but I wasn’t worried. Maybe the 5:56 pm train was late. But minutes passed. That was not the 5:56 pm train and I stood with all the other … Continue reading