I was in a crappy mood last night after synthesizing 0% product yield in my chemistry lab. And the 71-Haight just exacerbated my foulness. First of all, it was one of the newer, boxier buses. Which I’m not a fan of because the bus becomes crowded more easily than on the taller, single-decker buses. And on a 71-Haight, filled with more street kids and drunks than normal, it’s no fun being jammed together on a drizzly night.

The drunk guy belching Israeli rap lyrics, teenagers quipping nonchalantly about clothes, and the driver sloshing us back and forth like a washing machine added to the funky mojo. It was just one of those rides where you can’t sink into your book because you feel the negative energy pooling around you.

Appropriately, the sour ride ended in big crash.

At Masonic and Haight someone threw a hard object at one of the large, rectangular windows, splintering it from the middle up. The window didn’t break and no one was hurt, but it caused quite a ruckus inside.

“Why’d he do that,” asked the girl seated closest to the window. “What just happened,” others retorted. And the most original, “How’s my hair?” Naturally, the benign bus driver didn’t peep a word and kept on driving.

I got off at the next stop and tried to take a picture of the splintered window — in futility. The crammed, boxy bus jerked forward and away, marking the first good omen of the night that I might never have to ride that particular energy-sucking number again.

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If you liked this Muni diary, you might like:

1. Photo Diary: 71-Haight: 77 Minutes
2. Obituary: Farewell 7-Haight, I hardly knew you. Seriously, like, where were you?
3. Historic 7-Haight — What Could Be