Missed connection

You: Rode the 31 bus out of the Financial District with me this afternoon at about 5:30.  You got on your phone and delightfully regaled the bus's capacity crowd with your airhorn-gentle/sandpaper-smooth voice, touching on these and other topics:

• Your parents pay for 100% your school, unaware that you received a partial scholarship, which you instead take as a once-a-year bonus of pure cash.  You are wondering what to do with the $15,000 check the school recently sent you.  Maybe you'll travel through Europe, or just cruise around the states and visit some friends.
  
• Traveling out of the country will be hard because you don't have a passport.  You don't have a passport because you left it in a restaurant in New York.  Later you called to retrieve it, but they accidentally misplaced it as well.  They are such idiots.  
  
• You aren't sure if you have a driver's license, or how to get one if you don't already have one.  You do know that you got a DUI in Arkansas a year or two ago, though.  In your own words, you're "probably screwed on insurance."
  
• You need to help your silly friend figure out if he did or did not ejaculate into his now-pregnant ex-girlfriend.  Either way, you made it clear that the ex should stop messing with his mind.  

Me: I was wearing black pants, a grey shirt and grey tie, and a lot of blood on my face on account of I had gnawed off my own hand to prevent myself from using it to deliver a stern slap to your face.  

Let's meet: In the Montgomery Street BART station.  More specifically, on the tracks.  Wear earmuffs and a blindfold so I'll recognize you.