Jim arrives in San Francisco at dusk, tired after the flight from New York. Outside, he is embraced by fog. He descends into the train for the trip toward Noe Valley. The car opens its glass jaws. Jim gets inside. There are not many people in the train.
Why, wonders Jim, do people always look so unhappy on subways? Unhappy and mean. No one ever smiles or talks. It’s not that way on buses, or planes. If aliens landed on a subway they’d get a very unfavorable impression of our species…. But, there are a hell of a lot of places that aliens might find disturbing. I should know, I’ve been to most of ‘em.
The florescent light turns the riders a sickly green. Jim is fatigued and nervous. He hasn’t seen Ed in years. Soon they’ll be face to face.
Exiting into the night, the fog digs tiny, moist cat paws into his back. He shivers. It is early still, barely dark. Ed lives just over the hill from the Castro.