frot·tage (frô-täzh')

I jumped on the N at Civic Center at around noon this morning. It was Game Day, so people packed themselves in like sardines. We'll just have to be real good friends for the next few minutes, she said.

I stood patiently on board as a woman with 2 children got on and came towards me. The boy in the cowboy hat couldn't hold on, so I offered my wrist if he needed it. The lady's friend Julio asked when to get off. Not yet.

Muchos orange and kiddies with parents in orange surrounded me as we came above-ground, heading around the Embarcadero towards to the ball park.

I realised that I would need a bit of time to get through the people sea to alight, so before Brannan started heading doorwards.

I got jammed at Julio, and our tummies touched. Not once, but a few times, thanks to the movement of the tram. A unique sensation, particularly on the Muni on Game Day.

He was a big chap. Not quite my type.

And then I used a pinhole camera for the first time since Year 9, tailing a bunch of proper photographers around for Worldwide Pinhole Day.

This, at least to me, appears to be a crapshoot. Unless of course, you know what you're doing.