YOU'LL BE FINE WHEN WE GET THERE!

This blogger listens in on his fellow passengers with half an eye at best. Most of the time I try to ignore them, and zone out inside my head while traveling to work and back. Potheads, tourists, and very entitled residents of Marin. With the occasional screaming weirdo. Caramel and Cheddar Popcorn Mix. Sometimes teenagers with skateboards.

But this weekend was different. A whole bunch of drunken elderly people yesterday evening, coming back from a fair in Sausalito. And tonight, Germans trying to communicate with South Americans.


"You'll be okay when we get to a hospital, compadre!"

"Hospital?!? We probably won't even make it to the border! Those circling vultures are just waiting for the mules to die, and we're next!"


Traffic was horrid, and the ride took even longer than anyone could expect.
Conversations went strangely sideways.


"Don't eat too much of the salty nougat; it'll make you poo."


Thank you, I did not need to hear that. Could have survived the entire rest of my life without that datum.

I realized this morning that I do not particularly like my fellow humans. My standards aren't very high, but they're not even trying. After an extremely blistersome entitled old Marinite, I told my colleague Hector that I wanted to go back to my home planet, call the spaceship for pick-up.
Soon, baby!

He asked whether I was planning to do that today.
It would leave him in the lurch if I did.


A long foggy weekend makes many of these people mad. They're probably angry that they aren't at Burning Man. They could be naked and giddy.
But no. Fog.


Personally, I rather like this weather. It's been July all the way through August, and looks to stay like this for a while.




To discourage people, there really should be large signs planted along the highway saying "this is bat country, do not stop here!"

Das ist Fledermausland, hör nicht hier auf.

這裡是蝙蝠地，不要停在這兒。





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