It was late on a Thursday night with no baseball game; no game means no baseball idiots would grace us with their obnoxious presence.
I was to be spared the mean mugging (the express threat,) the anxiety over the colors of my apparel (the implied threat,) and the certainty of standing in a cramped car with dozens of rowdy fans who smell of body odor, alcohol, and cannabis.
After working the last 48 with less than 6 hours combined sleep, I was looking forward to a peaceful ride home. It looked like the stars were moving into conjunction.
I get a bonus surprise when the train arrives at Embarcadero Station, a very light crowd with plenty of seating. As a settle into my bed bug-ridden, urine stained seat; I survey my fellow riders.
