Adventures on the 91

After almost 10 hours at the annex, a delirious brunette walked to the top of campus to catch the notoriously unreliable 91 Owl. I checked the schedule and it said the the 91 would be arriving in the next 5 minuets, but sure enough that didn't happen. So I waited. At 3:30 in the morning what else was I going to do?

In the next 40 minuets that I sat waiting for that damn bus, I was reacquainted with the interesting world that is pre-dawn San Francisco. In those last few hours before the sun rises, the crazies come out. And when I say crazies, I mean the clinically insane.

Two girls were sitting with two guys, talking about the millennial phenomenon, known as the Hyphy Movement. The girls were apparently from east LA and they didn't know how to "go dumb."

A man with an inverted mo-hock beard... yes, a beard shaved down the middle... tried to explain to me as to why the 91 was so unreliable. He smelled like toilet water.

Then, a prince charming showed up to rescue me from said Muni expert, and he just happened to have Tourettes and extremely dirty hands, but otherwise a good looking guy. He began talking to me about my boots, whispering inappropriate details under his breath. Maybe not so charming.

Yet another reminder not to judge a book by it's cover.

Finally, I made it to Taraval, and then was fallowed home by a man who coincidentally was also whispering dirty things under his breath. I panicked for just a few seconds, but then I realized he was drunk and I could easily our run him. Deep Breath.

At last, I slipped my key into the front door and then I was home. Finally.

There is nothing like the comfort of your bed to make you truly appreciate the beauty and wonder of the 91 at 4:30 am.

<3
The Brunette