It was one of those days when I was able to get off work a little earlier than usual. I knew the Giants were playing and the traffic was going to be bad. In order to make it to the train station in time, I decided to take a cab. Boarded the cab and as expected, as soon as I uttered the magical words of “Caltrain station please!” I received a slight sigh from the African American driver. Being the suspicious person I am, I am always wary of cab drivers. Through the 2 mile drive, my mind is usually crafting intelligent rescue plans in the event something unforeseen were to happen. He drove like a cab driver should, he was fast, sharp on turns and cut people in the middle all the time. It took very little time for us to sprint through Market, through some random apartment complex, onto Brannan. I had only started to relax a bit as I alternated between checking a few emails on my phone to watching the wet streets after the rain and the sky grow darker, when I noticed him eye...