I was heading home Friday afternoon from a very fruitful jaunt to Thrift Town. I entered the 16th St. Mission BART station, and was delighted to discover a good-looking guy playing some kind of rock music solo on his cello. I’m a sucker for rock cello, so I leaned against a wall near him to listen.
That, unfortunately, is when I spotted the guy who had wedged himself between the trashcan and the support column in the breezeway. He was dressed in jeans and a rain poncho, and his hands were deep in his jeans. I don’t mean in his jeans pocket; I mean in his jeans.
Next to me, one of the emergency doors opened and a janitor stepped through with a mop and bucket full of soapy water.
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