A rainy Friday morning, the commute pleasant because of a good night's sleep and the reduced end-of-week traffic, the oblivion of the work week was almost finished. One more lap and then the oasis of the weekend. While I waited in the rain with the other commuters -- hotel workers, high school students -- for the 'A' bus to spirit us south on International Boulevard, I listened to "F.S.T.P." by Harvey Milk off their eponymous album of 2011. It fit perfectly:
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