A hidden ruby

The empty BART station cupped us in its yellow embrace as we stood, waiting, for the next train.  It would not come for ten minutes, dooming us to glance, glance, glance at the digital sign that declared variously 1) no trains were headed to San Francisco, 2) escalators were offline, and 3) that the next train was 10, 39 minutes en route.

Glance.  Nine minutes.  Glance. Still nine minutes.  It was a moment where you recognized the act of waiting.  Then you thought back to all the moments where you waited.  Then you waited.  Eight minutes.  Then the train was suddenly there with a quiet roar.

We were headed into San Francisco for a party, a gathering, to a auto-da-fé of pizza, burning in a wood oven.  Happy birthdays were given, drinks were received, and conversation slathered like sauce on bread.  Red sauce on pasta, even.

The zeitgeist of the evening was Zeitgeist, where barely acceptable Damnation was shared and we waited for Godot (in the form of the Tamale Lady).  She did not show but it did not prevent us from waiting.

Afterwards, back on the BART, a ruby-faced Ruby hacker accosted us in a green cape with a butterfly on the lapel, with green eyes.  He signed to us, “Are you a group or are you just friends?”  Stumbling over his words, his sign language stuttered and started amid weirdly surreal smiles.  He came from every Dungeons and Dragons game ever known.  He wore himself like a cloak.

Once on the train again, the memory of Green Cloak fading, we spoke of stalkers and sign language.