Saturday evening around 6, we took a fairly crowded bus up the hill. I started standing but turned around to look at the back to see if there were any seats available, as this bus ride is rather crazy and takes some arm strength just to keep upright. There was just one seat open, the middle of the 5-seat row in back. One guy on the side saw me glance over and immediately adjusted his bag and jacket to allow me to sit down. Later on during the ride we shared a laugh out of our leg contortions trying to allow the people at the ends of the row to get past us and out the bus.
As he finally headed for the door, we noticed that the tattoos on his uncovered bicep were, in fact, sperm. Several sperm, swimming upstream toward his shoulder.
That, along with the women making out at a bar, and the chocolate penis that a nice young man let J.S. pick out at Hot Cookie ($1 per inch), are just some of the liberal reasons that San Francisco is awesome and hilarious.
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