Hey sista, can you spare a quarter? Part 1

When the sun is shining and there's nothing to do but ride buses and drink strawberry daiquiris, you know it's time to jump in your prettiest summer frock and ask yourself, or your roommate, "Is this a bus-hoppers kind of day?"

The obvious answer is yes, with the one caveat, "Am I ready to get all them bugs in my vajay?" There are just some occupational hazards we must incur, and the dress was a non-negotiable.

So ya'll don't get lost, I'm going to break the journey down by route. The adventure was as follows (in case you want to replicate it): 51B, 72 (southbound), 72M (northbound), 1 (northbound), *break*, 1 (southbound), 57.

As a seasoned bus hopper, you know it's going to be a good day when you step on to College Ave with nothing but a borrowed bus pass and a water bottle full of wine (not yet true, but an idea we're playing with...) and there, coming full speed ahead as if driven by a 14 year old is your new favorite bus, the 51B. Oh, there was no doubt about it, definitely going to be a good day. We scooted our way to the back of the bus, settling our bare legs onto the cozy blue plastic seats ("the bugs, the bugs!"), happily on our double date with a couple fine looking 40-something, mustached gentlemen.

We hopped off at the Pab (San Pablo for you novices out there) and ran (yes, actually ran...this is a full time gig you know) to catch the 72. Thus began our journey into Oaktown: bibles, bottles, babies and all. We kept on ridin' because we knew it had to get worse before it could get better and we had no need for a new weave or a fire and brimstone sermon. Finally, we embarked onto a fairly safe looking street and stopped in at a good ol' Starbucks (a favorite friend depot for these travelers). "You ladies lookin' for something to do? My [frat] bros and I are having a BBQ in Ocean Beach." Thanks Starbucks man, you sure know how to make some ladies feel special.

Walk walk walk, watched a baby run 8 miles back and forth in Jack London Square. Crazy babies.

Finally, we headed back. The 72M was a nice quiet bus with a rowdy man ready for any type of sportcasting emergency that might rear it's head. After yelling at a young woman, who was completely minding her own business, he accused the bus driver of "chastising a blind man." A good scuffle ensued, thanks for the fun Sportscaster Dan.

And then there was the One. Any good bus hopper has to have their fail safe: that one bus that you know is guaranteed for a good time, like that booty call boy that's just too good to delete out of your phone. And to think we almost took the
51A ...idiots.

As we stood, waiting for the purple lights to announce our old friend's arrival, a man approached us, seemingly sprung from the man hole on the sidewalk of our West Oakland bus stop. He casually asked me, "Hey sista, can you spare a quarter?" I did the old avoid-eye-contact-pretend-to-be-dead thing, which was the exact WRONG move. "Red faced (assed?) bitch, I'm a break yo brains with this bottle bitch!" Thank god his glassy, cataract crazy eyes couldn't see us basically lose our shit, almost peed my pants from laughing so hard.

Moral of the story, you can always count on the 1.