I got on the N-Judah at Embarcadero and headed for an empty seat. I was met there by this teenage boy, but I said “excuse me” sweetly and nudged my way past him to the window seat. He was nice about it and sat next to me. He looked around 17 or 18, wearing a black t-shirt and skintight black jeans, head shaved down to about a quarter-inch or so. He picked up the sports section from the floor and started reading it. I stared out the window. As we made our way through the tunnel, all I really paid attention to were how many really old people were boarding our train. It wasn’t even 4:00 yet; we were beating the commute.

So anyway, after we emerged from the second tunnel, the kids gets on his cellphone. One of the first things he says to the girl on the other line is how he’s planning to head to the Trans Parade tonight, and will be marching at the front. I give him another peek, okay, I can see it. Cute young FtM. The voice gave it away (deep for a girl, but not for a guy), and the smooth, babysoft cheeks.

So he keeps chatting away, telling his friend how he has this 32-year-old MtF girlfriend, how he likes his women a little older, oh but he still is interested in hooking up with whoever he is talking to. It was pretty funny to me but the old people sitting around us were probably scandalized. Every time this kid said “fuck” the old man sitting in front of us kind of turned his head in this exaggerated way. And yet, when he said “yeah, I’m wearing skin tight jeans and my cock is hanging out,” the old man didn’t do anything. I guess his friend didn’t believe the part about the tight jeans, so the kid turned to me and said “Am I wearing skin tight jeans?” “Yes,” I confirmed, and smiled. This was apparently enough proof.

Alas, it was almost my stop, and he was still on the phone, so I didn’t get to overhear the end of this scintillating conversation.