The trip?  San Francisco to Alameda.  The plan?  Take BART (a San Francisco rail service) under the bay into Oakland.  Then, catch an AC Transit bus, either number 51, or 51A, or 51M, to Alameda.  So, sort of two-pronged trip.

Prong One?  Not a problem.  Prong Two?  The complete opposite of not a problem.  It was a problem, in other words.

And it went a little something... like this:

11:00pm:  Depart my friend Dave's apartment in San Francisco.  Dave's friend Jeff drives me to the BART station.

11:10pm:  Wait for the train.

11:20pm:  Get on the train.

11:32pm:  Get off the train at the Lake Merritt Station in Oakland, walk about five blocks in the direction of the bus stop.

11:35pm:  Grumble to myself as a 51 bus roars past me while I'm still about two blocks from the bus stop.  I wave my arms at the driver, figuring, hey, I'm a tiny, frail-looking person, completely unthreatening, maybe the he'll realize that if he doesn't stop for me, I'll be killed by roving gangs or roving dogs or roving, mean-spirited children.  No such luck.  He doesn't stop, so I walk the rest of the way to the bus stop.  

Below, we can see an approximation of the street corner where the bus stop is:

And here's me.

Okay, it's not me, it's a red dot representing me.  You'll just have to use your imagination a little bit.  I did try using a little picture of my head, but it looked silly, and besides, if you're sitting there saying "Wait a second, that's not him, that's a red dot.  I don't follow this at all," then a tiny dismembered head would just lead you to say, "Hey, that's just a tiny dismembered head, what, he has no body?  I don't get it."

11:36am:  Anyway, since I just missed my bus, I'm guessing it will be about a half-hour until the next one.

12:45am:  I am, in a word, unhappy.

It's been over an hour, and there haven't been any busses, not even a wrong bus.  Oakland is quiet tonight.  Too quiet.  I'd say it was dead quiet, but that may in fact be true, everyone may be dead.  This is Oakland, after all.  Actually, I shouldn't be in too much danger.  I'm in Chinatown, so there's probably more of a chance that some stooped-over old Asian man will come along and try to sell me a dead baby pig than that I'll be killed by gang warfare.

Either way, this is really annoying.  I have to work tomorrow, and it's getting late.  I probably could have walked most of the way home by now, but it simply hasn't been an option.  If I was going to walk, I should have started right away.  You can't wait a half-hour and then begin to walk, because as soon as you're a couple blocks away from the bus stop, the bus will come.  No, I won't be falling into that trap.  I've chosen my path.  Unless...

12:46am:  I start trying to remember how late the busses run.  Maybe they stop running at midnight?  I get out my cell phone, dial up AC Transit, and start 1-ing my way through automated menus, when suddenly I hear a familiar sound.  I look up the road, where I see not one, but two buses turning the corner and heading in my direction.  The first bus is not the 51, it is another bus that would only take me further into Oakland, to another BART station.  The bus behind it, I see, is the 51.  My bus.

They are both coming along, and I wave my cell phone to signal that, no, I'm not just enjoying this fine evening here on a deserted corner in the lovely, war-torn, urine-stenched city of Oakland, I actually am waiting for a bus.

Both busses slow down and begin to pull over.  I start walking towards them, since when they stop, I'll have to board the second bus, not the first:

Then, a bad thing happens.  The first bus is still slowing down and pulling over.  I am still walking towards the approximate spot where the second bus will stop.

The second bus, however, does not stop.  Instead:

It turns, accelerates, and starts passing the first bus.  I wave my arm but I can't see the driver of the second bus, since the first bus, which has more or less stopped, is now exactly between us.  If I can't see him, then he can't see me, or if he can see me, he must think I'm getting on the first bus.  I start running, but now the second bus is passing the first, so I reverse directions and upgrade my run into a sprint.

The second bus, my bus, my fucking bus, to be more precise, is now LEAVING.  It is DRIVING AWAY.  Like, WITHOUT ME.

I leap into the street and yell and wave and say things like "NO" and "STOP" and "WAIT" and "FUCK."  I was a regular potty mouth at this point.  The little red dot in the above picture does not accurately depict my state of mind.  It is just a red dot, where I was a very angry foul-mouthed flailing-armed human being.  Perhaps I should have used a tiny picture of my face instead.  It would be a very angry face at this point.

My bus now gone, I turn back to the bus that is not mine, since I am standing in front of it.  The driver looks at me, and shrugs.  I look at the driver and say something like "FUCK."  Eventually, I retreat to the curb, and the bus drives away.

I stand there in disbelief.  I can't believe I waited an hour and fifteen minutes in the middle of the night for a bus, and then missed the bus.  Rather, the bus missed me.

Well, I really need to smash something at this point.  In one hand, I hold my cell phone.  In the other, I hold my walkman.  At this time, considering my current financial status, both are more or less irreplaceable.  Luckily, there is a fence running along the block, so I walk over, and I kick the living shit out of the fence.

There is no diagram for this.  Just picture a guy kicking a fence.

12:48am:  Well, now my foot is broken, and I still have the same problem.  I need to get home.  I can't imagine continuing to wait for another bus, because if the same exact thing happened... I can't even speculate on it.  It's time to catch a cab.

Of course, I haven't seen a single cab since I've been here.  I do have my cell phone, but on the other hand, I only have two dollars on me.

12:50am:  Begin search for ATM.  I see a lit BANK sign about two blocks down, right near where those three cabs are currently speeding by.  

12:59am:  The bank had no ATM, which is okay, because the bank across the street from it does have an ATM, one that informs me it is not currently in service, which is not okay, although there is one a block further down the street, so I guess it is okay, although it's still damn annoying.  I pop in my card, withdraw forty bucks, and stand there while it churns up my receipt.

churnchurnchurnchurnchurn

I hear a bus.

Then I see a bus.  It's turning onto the road, about a block away, and heading towards the bus stop, which is in two blocks away.  The other way.  It's the 51M!  I can take that bus!

Meanwhile: churnchurnchurnchurnchurn

"Come on!  Come on, hurry up, spit my card back out already!"

The bus is stopped at a light.  I could maybe still catch it, maybe, if I ran real fast, but I have to leave now.

churnchurnchurnchurnchurn

"Come on, come on, come on comeoncomeoncomeon COME ON COME ON YOU STUPID CHINESE ATM GIMME MY DAMN RECEIPT AND MY DAMN ATM CARD BACK COME ON WHAT ARE YOU PRINTING ANYWAY, THE FUCKING KORAN, WHY IS THIS TAKING SO GODDAMN LONG???  DON'T PUSH ME, BABY, DIDN'T YOU SEE WHAT I DID TO THAT FENCE BACK THERE???"

churnchurnchurn

churn

click!

1:03am:  Missed the bus.  I suddenly notice there is someone standing next to me, but it's just my anger, because I'm beside myself with it.  Okay, that sucked, but come on!  I'm not having a good night, here!  Gotta give me a little latitude.

1:04am:  As much as I want to call 9-1-1 and have an ambulance take me to the hospital, just because it's a little closer to my apartment than this accursed street corner is, I call 4-1-1 instead, and ask for a cab company.  They connect me with Yellow Cab, and I give them the intersection I'm at, and ask them to send a cab.  Twenty minutes later, I'm home at last.  No, I'm kidding!  Twenty minutes later I'm still in the same exact spot!  Ha ha!

1:30am:  Okay, this is getting slightly ridiculous.

I call 4-1-1 again, and ask them to connect me to any cab company besides Yellow Cab.  They connect me, the phone rings, and a sleepy man answers.  Wrong number.

I call 4-1-1 again, they connect me, this time the phone rings for about two minutes.

Again.  This time the line is busy.

No answer.

No answer.

Wrong number.

Out of service.

I'm about to KILL SOMEONE.  I CAN'T GET OFF THIS FUCKING CORNER.

1:49am:  I could have walked home ON MY BUTT CHEEKS by now.  But, I finally have an actual cab company on the line.  And:

I hear a bus. 

By this time, I have wandered up about two blocks to where I had hoped I might have a better chance of catching a cab in passing, so I start running back towards the bus stop.  If I miss this bus, someone is going to DIE, and it's NOT GOING TO BE ME.  Actually, it probably IS going to be me, so I start running faster.

I don't want to hang up on the cab guy in case I miss this bus, so I'm running along yelling into the phone, telling him I need a cab at 7th and Webster in Oakland.  He tells me they don't drive to Oakland, which is funny, because it's an Oakland cab company, but in his defense, it probably sounds like I'm being chased by either cops or gang members, so I don't blame him for not wanting to send a cab.  Besides, if I save my breath, I just.  Might.  Make.  This.  Bus.

2:00am:  I made the bus.  I made it home.

7:00am:  I'm now getting on the same bus, only the morning version.  It's incredible how bitter I feel, just taking my seat.  My skin crawls just being inside it.  I was never fond of this bus to begin with, but after last night, and since I've had very little sleep (and there was even more to the story, as I first mentioned last week, involving some prescription medication and a light bulb, but jeez, just the bus part is long enough, so I think I'll get to the other details another time, because they really do play a rather significant part in the crappiness of that evening) that I can't even remember what the rest of this sentence is about since the part in parenthesis was so long.  I think it was something about hating this bus.

What's worse, the driver this morning is possibly the most considerate driver I've ever seen.  As he approaches each stop, he cranes his neck around, looking in all directions, peering down side streets, in case someone is hurrying along to catch the bus.  He stops at each stop, even when the people standing there wave him by, just in case they change their mind.  He gets out of the bus and knocks on doors of houses, asking the residents if they might need a ride on his bus today, he wouldn't mind waiting for them if they planned to do some shopping a little later.

Swell guy.  But I hate him.