Originally published in the S.F. Examiner on September 19, 2019.
Last week was full of extremes and extreme confusion. From a scorcher on Thursday, when my shift begins, to rain on Monday, when it ends. From a feeding frenzy at the airport, to a slow crawl through the holding lots, as if we’ll never reach the terminals. From random flags in random corners of The City, to hotel cab stands that have more taxis than taxi patrons.
Nothing seemed to make sense. Even now, I’m still searching for a unifying theme, other than wanton chaos.
Despite feeling out of synch most of the week, there was also a weird synchronicity at play.
On Thursday, I get a ride out of the Orpheum. Two stops. First, Vallejo and Laguna. Second, Chestnut and Mason. My next fare, out of the Golden Gate Theater, goes to Vallejo and Gough. After that, I pick up at the Opera going to Chestnut and Leavenworth.
All week, the northeastern quadrant of The City seems to have this strange gravitational pull over me. Half my rides terminate in the Wharf, the Marina or one of the other adjoining neighborhoods.
Despite the anarchic flow, things start off well enough, a continuation of my good fortune from last week, but after Friday the 13th, my luck fizzles.
Read the rest here.
[photo by Douglas O’Connor]
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