Subterranean blues

I'm in San Francisco for the week working for a small agency of really nice people.

Anyway, I took the BART from the airport to within a block of my hotel. Imagine that, trains that actually take people to places people actually want to go.

In Los Angeles, if you take a train to Dodger Stadium for instance, you'd better be wearing blue, because you'll have to hoof it a mile and half from the nearest station right through the heart of Crip Country.

As I exited the BART station I noticed this sign.

I know it doesn't apply to me because:
A. I don't have any hair
B. I could hardly be described as a businessman.

But if I wasn't so follicley and financially challenged, I wonder, would I really want my personal hygiene attended to by a store-owner who spends the better part of his life underground?

Also, the only Ramzi I know is the guy who tried to blow up the World Trade Center in 1993.
I won't be sampling the shwarma at his place either.