fourMonday morning in the City. In Bernal Heights, in the Richmond, the Castro, in Noe Valley, alarm clocks buzzed like electroshock. On Potrero Hill, Russian Hill, Telegraph Hill, in Chinatown, the Panhandle, the Mission, dreamers hit the snooze, drifted until the second shock then hit the ground running. Toilets flushed. Showers sprayed. All across the City age old iron pipes shuddered and the water pressure dropped.
“Goddamn it!”
No time for breakfast. Just coffee. Grab a donut. Sugar rush. Platform Shoes. Caffeine rush. White shirts.
Neckties—“Oh God how I hate these things.”
Panty hose—“Oh God how I hate these things.”
Downtown. Market Street. The rain poured down in buckets. Cars and buses tangled. The pace of life tried to quicken but snarl was pandemic. Trolley buses, diesel b
