The Trolley Incident
Clark September 28th, 2008
I was riding the F Trolley down Market Street last night, quietly reading my book with half a dozen other riders, when the trolley filled with European vacationers. They were all in their fifties, nicely dressed, and some were wearing fleece jackets that said ‘Albatross Tours.’ They were loud and boisterous because of their sheer numbers – they’d made it standing room only – but they were generally mannerly and well-behaved. I started playing the language game and was quite pleased with myself that I had it narrowed down to Danish or Norwegian before I heard one of them say ‘Dansk’ or something like that, and I knew they were all Danish.
I heard what I can only describe as a very loud crackling behind me, there was a commotion, and I looked back to see that someone had fired a couple of gunshots into the two back windows of the trolley. Nobody had been hit, but once the word spread up the aisle it was pandemonium. The poor Dane sitting in the middle of the back seat was lucky not to be hit, but got broken glass all over his neck, and down his jacket and shirt. For the next minute most of the attention was on him, with people dusting his neck with handkerchiefs and helping him shake out his clothes. A few of the Danes stepped forward to take digital photos of the bullet holes, and I learned very quickly that the word for gunshot in Danish is very similar to our own.
It was so crowded and the trolley had moved so far that it was little use to try to get to the driver and get her to stop. Whoever did it was long gone. Looking at the holes, I’m not at all sure that the bullets even made it through the glass. It would have been thick tempered glass, and I’m guessing it was just a .22 caliber bullet, just powerful enough to crater the glass and send glass flying inside, but not enough to penetrate the glass or worse, wound one of us.
About this time many of them looked to me as the only local (I can now call myself a local since I’ve lived in San Francisco for the requisite ninety days) and I realized I had been staring at the bullet holes for over a minute with a look of complete horror on my face.
It isn’t often in life that you get set up this well. I smiled and said, “Welcome to America!” Big laugh and I was everyone’s best friend.
Danger seems to follow you wherever you are Clark.
It is fun to read your blog from time to time.
Take care of yourself and enjoy the San Francisco life. It is such a beautiful city. Let me know when you are back on San Diegan land (or water) and keep in touch.
Best wishes to your mom and the rest of the family.
love,
irina
Hi Clark, welcome to San Francisco! Had a bullet hole in my car window, one night back in 79, while parked on Washington outside our apartment near Jones. Yep, parking was at a premium even back then, but SF is still my favorite city. My wife, Lesley, is a friend of Sandy (your mom) and she put me onto your web site. I love reading about all of your adventures. Keep them coming, and welcome back (alive).
Al