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busride to Ocean Beach
Monday, November 23 1998
I drove halfway to work in the little blue convertible and dropped if off at the Rent-a-Car place in Old Town. I then walked a short distance to the Trolley Station and caught a ride to work. Fewer and fewer people are waking up early enough to attend Human Development each morning, especially with the Grand Pooh Bah, his girlfriend the Graphic Designer, as well as the Engineering Coach all off on vacation in Southern Europe.
After work I caught the Trolley back to Old Town and then rode a bus back to Ocean Beach. Riding a bus is a slow, deliberate process haunted by traffic lights, an unambitious schedule, and the positional needs of others. I did my best to make the most of the ambience, vaguely thinking about the societal norms that break down in order to permit the "culture" (such as it is) inside the bus. Everyone was quiet and dispassionate, so there wasn't much for me to observe. I found myself waiting for the first person to pull the cord to order the bus to stop. I had it in my mind that whoever ordered the first stop would be an automatic wuss (for having not just walked to that spot from Old Town). But the bus had ventured at least a mile before someone finally wanted to get out, so I didn't even get an opportunity to cast aspersions on my fellow man.
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