from the diary: “Tuesday 7/15/87
“Sunday night when I boarded the GGT [Golden Gate Transit bus] at the Transit Mall in S[an] F[rancisco] I was pretty wasted. [Tired, not drunk.] I threw my stuff down and opened up my suitcase to fish out the change I’d had left over from the BART [Bay Area Rapid Transit train] ticket I bought on the way to Hugh McLean’s. The bus driver was arguing with a man who only had a twenty, nothing smaller, so he couldn’t pay the fare. None of the rest of us had change. I would be lucky if I found enough. The driver did finally get him off, then snapped at me still counting out my change. I had just exactly enough – mostly quarters – pennies, a dime left over.
“I put my suitcase and knapsack at my feet and leaned the chair back. I remember glancing at the seat across the aisle and seeing this black jacket exactly like mine atop a white pillow. I remember wondering if it was the black man’s jacket who’d had the twenty. Hope he gets it back. I slept more than I was awake the way in to Rohnert Park. As we were coming to my stop I gathered my stuff and – NO COAT! My jacket, where’s my jacket? I’m saying, ‘Oh, shit. Oh, God.’ And not getting very much sympathy. I ask frantically, ‘Has a jacket been turned in?’ At first driver doesn’t seem to want to admit it. I say, ‘It’s got $200 in it.’ She says, ‘No, it doesn’t.’ No? Well, of course, I spent some of it on the trip. She asked my name. ‘Glenn Ingersoll.’ ‘No, that’s not it.’
“What the hell could be in my coat. ‘You haven’t identified it yet.’ I tried describing it, but she dint want none o’ that. ‘There’s a name in it.’ What name could possibly be in my jacket? Well, she weren’t givin’ it up, so I reluctantly exited the bus, upset, and vaguely grateful that at least if she was such a bitch to me then no one else would get my jacket either. I had no money to call home and didn’t know whether [my brother David] was home [at his place in Rohnert Park]. I tried calling from a pay phone but it wasn’t AT&T so it required 20c – no collect or charge calls allowed. FUCK!
“I stalked to David’s apt. all afume. He was decorating his room (1:30am) and I ranted about my missing coat until Mom got there.
“Monday morning Mom called GGT and talked to a supervisor who had the jacket. I then called to identify it. Dint get him till the evening. He was suspicious. He read me something saying, ‘Hi, Glenn. You’re invited to a party.’ Did that ring a bell? Could I identify the inviter, give name & phone number? No. What party? Who? Mom came up with Jeff. ‘Jeff Ensley?’ I asked. ‘Yes,’ [the GGT supervisor] sounded more excited. [F]irst I had to give the location of the party. I thought of Juan’s parties. A beach, the supervisor [hinted]. ‘Russian Gulch?’ ‘No.’ When Mom said Jeff I said, ‘Salmon Creek Beach?’ ‘Yes.’ That clinched it. Mom picked up the jacket today. My money is safe.”
I was returning from the Oz Convention in Monterey. Afterwards I’d hung out in SF with some Ozzies.