Red Blood on the Blue Line.

A patron of the Blue Line Trolley was stabbed yesterday at about three o'clock. I had been on the same line, but two hours earlier. It happened in the Logan Heights area of San Diego. The Heights sits below the Coronado Bridge and just east of the Imperial Station. I don't know if the train advanced towards the Mexico border or had returned and advanced towards the downtown area of San Diego.
   Seldom, if ever, have I seen a TSA officer deployed on a Blue Line train. They usually are stationed at one of the train's stops with a coffee in one hand and cell phone in the other. Why yesterday some were arrested for smuggling drugs out of Lindbergh Field. Only a few of these incompetents do their job. There are hundreds of these buffoons looking over San Diego. Few have graduated even high school but they still carry guns.
   Cole Porter wrote a song called, Anything Goes. Trolley follies can be seen on any Line, but most of all on the Blue. During the day the Blue Trolley takes teenagers to City College or their homes in the East Village. Many domestics and laborers use it to come and go from San Diego back to their homes across the border
   Many students have their pants parked just below their underwear. With ear phones, they dance to some rap music. Instead of notebooks, many carry skateboards. A few stay on all day with nothing better to do. Various offices award them with Compass cards so they can go everywhere.
   A common meeting area is the library for some. Some like me get off on Market and walk the block to the library. There, they can elude reality and go into a word of fantasy playing games, or just watching porno.
   Of course the homeless live below freeways, at train stations or the Petco Park. Some live in tents along C street or Park Blvd. Several toilet stalls are set up on Fifth Avenue. The good news is that when drunk with don't drive.
   My buddy Max just got back from across the border. He had been in a 41 day lock up in Vista for a DUI of .281. It had been his second offense. He lived across the border for a few weeks and became depressed. A hospital in Tijuana sent him to San Diego and the Scripps Mercy one. His lawyer told him his harsh sentence was because of his high blood count.
   Every-other-day a motorcyclist is killed on the San Diego freeways. Heroin, alcohol, and energy drinks have made San Diego its home. Every corner houses a Seven Eleven or Starbucks Coffee that offer quick fixes in the form of sugar and caffeine. The quick fix is everywhere.

 Nuts and Bolts: Never leave a train with a bag of booze in your hands. You will be arrested or given a citation.