Fallen By The Wayside

[I'm having a hard time getting used to getting to work on time and calm. My new job is in an out-of-the-way corner of Potrero Hill, not one of San Francisco's most accessible neighborhoods for those of us dependent on public transit. It's a block from the Vermont Street exit from 101, so I guess that explains it. (Cheap rent's a likelier story.)]

[Anyway, I have a couple of bus or bus-BART combo options from glorious Lower Nob Hill, all of which involve some of the less frequent bus routes. I've been "experimenting" with different routes (if you can call panicked improvisation "experimenting"), and can't quite decide if the bus that stops in front of my apartment building (but which takes of in a plume of diesel just as I'm walking out the front door) is faster than walking to Powell BART, and transferring at 16th and Mission to a Bizarro-world bus line that seems to come as often as...oh, no, that just screams for a sexual reference, and I can't think of one. Fill in your own.]

[ANYWAY, the 27-Bryant again left me eating its dust this morning, so I zipped down to catch BART, realizing only at the ticket machine that I didn't have change, and my finances are such that I'm not sinking five bucks into a BART ticket. OK, a coffee I didn't really want from the cable-car-shaped kiosk in Hallidie Plaza, near where the real cable cars turn around. I was juggling change, my phone, a satchel, a BART ticket with twenty cents left on it (yes, these are my denominations these days...first payday's Tuesday!), the coffee, and my sanity. Something was bound to fall by the wayside, and it turns out to have been my phone.]

[They have it, according to the friendly voice at the Cable Car Coffee Company. This is my most recent reason for not taking calls, and my favorite to date. Allen's lending me one of his bikes soon, and I can't wait.]

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