The Bull Run Trolley

In a flash the name came over me. Again, I found myself on the Blue Line in downtown San Diego. In the last three months, I have never seen any T.S.A. worker checking for tickets-since it is too dangerous. And anyway, nobody on this line has the money to pay a fine.
   I needed to go to the majestic San Diego Library to beef up my blog and find out where I can take classes. So far with Google, I have been farting in the wind. My energy needs to be placed where it can produce the most good. I have not received a dime from Google-so far.
   Now back to the Bull Run Express. The Blue Line stops at American Plaza every fifteen minutes to pick up their patrons. Many are going to the border towns or the East Side of San Diego. Filthy language comes on board as usual, along with the misfits of life. Two wheelchairs are lifted. One man enters with a hot dog and splashes mustard on the sitter next to him. The sitter wipes it off without any rancor.
    One women sits across from me. Her body takes up the entire seat and part of the aisle. She smiles at me and asks if the "paper is mine.". A couple of shirtless coke bottles come aboard holding their tattooed skate boards. Many of the young kids carry tattoos and one man holds onto a service dog.
   Thousands of exports from across the border get on the train. They are the domestics, servers, and others who do the dirty work in San Diego.  I forgot to wear my nose plugs since the smell of dead sweat overcomes me
   When the train arches onto Park Blvd, more tents and sleeping bags come to life. A Ralph's shopping cart is their cupboard.  Bottles, cans and just about everything else are inside the Ralph's shopping cart. Ralph's doesn't care. They just increase the prices.
   I get off on Market and Parks and go east towards J Street. I hear ambulances and see a squad car's driver signaling. A body is too my left. It quivers, thank God, and is picked up by the paramedics. They take him inside their meat-mobile to see what was wrong.
   There are over thirty people waiting to get inside the Mission Restaurant My watch says one o'cock so I walk past the Old Broom Works and turn up Eleventh Street. Many lumber towards the library. I enter the Eleventh Street gate to avoid the rush. Yes, it is a Bull Run Rush. Many escalate to the second floor and computers. There are almost 200 state of the art computers. Each, like me, can leave reality into their new world.
   After a well- needed bathroom break, they return to the computer for their two hours of heaven. they are mainly whites and blacks, but it is really an amalgamation of everyone. I run my password and my identity and write the above. The air conditioning is just the right tonic for my air filter. The air quality is quite good today. A little light rain is on the way. Clean air means my my mind is working.
  It is now three o'clock and time to go upstairs to the ninth floor and the California room. It is there I work the digital microfiche computer to add more zest in my football story. I wish to crop pictures of the rest of the Trojan and some Bruins onto my book. It is exciting to read about the thirties. I wish to know  more about my parents who put me through school.

Nuts and bolts for today. Bad air quality translates into poor educational performance.