Anyway, the 71 was a long ride so I had time to chat with the driver, a nice fellow from, as he said, “the Phillipines, m’am”. Today was his day off and this was not his regular route and he’d taken an extra shift for the overtime. His family lives in a house he bought in Sacramento and he sees them only on his days off. He was shy so didn’t want me to take his picture but here he is, picking up a customer.
What can I say? I’m a public transit romantic. This driver stays with his brother when he is in the city working. His whole family is part of the largest export product of the Phillipines, labor. Human beings who work hard are the primary resource of that country. Nurses, teachers, construction workers, domestic help, cover bands at nightclubs, Filipinos do it all and they do it all over the world.The 71 deposited me once more at the beach on another gray, otherworldly day. Wandering along the edge of the ocean, lost in damp thoughts, this emerged:
I was having a psychedelic experience, completely drug-free. Yes, that is a Dutch windmill, not 300 yards from the coast of the Pacific. It’s actually the largest Dutch windmill in the world, having the largest sails, according to the plaque that’s stuck on it. It was built to pump water from an underground well to irrigate the “useless” sand dunes of the 19th century that are now the lush and beautiful Golden Gate Park.
A sign said that the garden beneath the windmill is the “Queen Wilhemina Tulip Garden”. Alas, tulips are out of season, as you can see from the flowerless beds in the foreground. But this is San Francisco, so queens are never out of season and the scrubby underbrush trails around the windmill play host to a robust crop of them.
It hard to see the gents I saw go into this shrub together and in the spirit of keeping the anonymous in anonymous sex, I let them have their encounter, minus the prying eyes of the internet. There are plenty of other sites for that, if you really have an interest.
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