As I walked through Yurba Buena, past the Moscone Center, I heard three whistles come from behind me. Then, “Is that you, Michael?” was screamed at me by a woman. “Swinging your butt on the wrong side of the street?” I chose not to turn around. I don’t know anyone around here, especially who would be up at 7:30 in the morning. As traffic roared by the voice kept screaming and I realized that the person must be crazy.
I got to the light at 4th Street and waited. Then the woman came up from behind me saying something about how she doesn’t know who I am or knows that I don’t know who she is, talking to no one in particular. Ignoring walk signals, she made her way into the intersection, stopping a van. The driver said something to her and she turned back with a “Whore! Bitch!” and crossed 4th. I crossed and made a left, to avoid running into her again.
After a few blocks, on Folsom and 5th, she walked up to me. “Do you know where Bryant Street is?” she asked me. I asked her if it was up that way, closer to Market, unsure. She said no. I looked towards the freeway and said, “Oh yeah, it’s two block down that way.”
With her arms crossed, she thanked me and walked on.
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