On the way home, the San Francisco train station smelled like Lucky Charms. Not anything I was carrying; not any obvious food-selling cart or anything; not the train; and, later, not the Mountain View station anymore.
I am extraordinarily perplexed.
(The San Francisco station sometimes smells like the bread baking in the Subway. This is a good smell, but not at all like Lucky Charms. It did not smell like bread this morning, or noticeably of anything else.)