Rejected by Muni. Twice 07.30.10
Photo by shandopics
This diary teeters on the edge between tragic and comic. This driver is Tara’s Newman. The Muni system in the far northeast corner of San Francisco is her white whale. Read on …
Thursday after work, I saw the 47 idling at a red light before turning left at the corner of Beach and Powell. Great: I’m a few steps from the route’s origin, and the light’s still totally red. Surely, if I knock on the door (the bus was technically still touching its stop), I’ll be let on with plenty of time for everyone to be on schedule.
Nope.
The driver acknowledged my knock with a step-back motion, confusing me a bit, then continued to sit there for a few seconds until the light turned green.
And then she left.
I’ve booked it to the second stop before with good results (knowing that the bus has two more lefts to make before it gets there), so I indignantly jogged as best I could with a full gym bag, a yoga mat, and a purse. I was the horse and this bus was my carrot. Surprisingly, I made it to the outside back of the bus at that second stop. A guy stood on the stairs for a second before boarding, then I watched the doors close and the bus roll along.
There is no goddamn way she didn’t see me the second time, which made it even worse. I fumed via voicemail at the stop; yeah, I was that girl screaming obscenities into a phone while toting a peppy pink yoga mat. Welcome, tourists!
It got me thinking of what a driver once said to late arrivals; you can either get on the bus as it leaves a stop, or you can have the bus stay on schedule, but you can’t have both. Is it really one or the other? I’d hope it would be more case-by-case than that, personally.
Tara is saddened, almost to the point of tears on some days, that her only transit options away from Fisherman’s Wharf elude her so regularly.
Freestylin’ 49, Part 2 05.11.10
Photo by Flickr user DaveFayram
I hate bagging on Muni drivers, whether it’s via the relative anonymity of the interwebs, to a friend at a party, or to their faces. It accomplishes nothing, as you’re still shit out of luck even after you’ve gotten worked up, right? But I had to say something this time.
Background: I spun this yarn a few weeks ago about a 49-Van Ness/Mission that inexplicably stopped at 14th Street, instead of continuing further south like it’s supposed to. Fine. Whatever. But during each of the three times this has happened to me, news of the offbeat route was announced with an inside voice that could shame the quietest church whispers. The 49 isn’t exactly quiet, either. All signs indicated that this was indeed a 49 that went the full route.
During my charmed third time on the 49-Stops at 14th Street, the bus pulls to a stop, and the same driver (at the same time of day) opens all the doors. He steps outside the bus, walks the length of one side, and notifies people with his inside voice, “last stop…last stop…last stop.”
As 50 people stare at one another confusedly, wondering if the driver simply bailed to the gas station for a snack, I stepped outside and asked if this was the last stop. I said he needs to actually announce this to people next time, because no one can hear him. That is why 50 people are still sitting on his bus.
His response: “The PA is broken, what do you want me to do?”
Hmm.
Yes, PAs break, especially on Muni, where a lot of things break all the time. And he’s apparently driving the same broke-ass bus every time, hence the regular lack of aurally acceptable announcements. Shitty. But come on; why did he go outside, first of all, instead of walking the length of the inside of the bus?
Consider this another plea for better communication between drivers and passengers.
If you’re curious, the bus turns east on 14th Street after slowly emptying its confused load of folks.
My Love Affair With San Francisco Cable Cars 04.30.10
Image by Omar Lee
Ed. note: To read this story with a prettier layout, please visit it on The Bold Italic. BTW, pure coincidence, but this guy, featured a few weeks ago here on Muni Diaries, makes an appearance in this story (his name is Freeman).
I was born and bred in the Bay Area, which means I grew up ignoring San Francisco’s cable cars. I don’t even remember my first and only time on the trolley. Even though riding the carousel at Pier 39 is an indelible childhood memory, the cable car is not. That’s right: Pier 39 trumps the cable car for as long as I can remember. Ouch.
And I’m not the only local who feels this way. We can rattle off bus lines, poppin’ neighborhoods, and new restaurants and bars in the blink of an eye. But ask us where the Powell-Hyde cable car goes, exactly, and you’re likely to get a blank stare and a raised eyebrow in response. We’ll ride the cable cars when friends or family visit, sure. But it doesn’t stop us from dramatically sighing and complaining for weeks about the northeast part of town.
It’s sad, really. But admittedly, there are some very good reasons for this. Cable cars are limited in where they go and also in the diversity of its riders. They’re arguably kitschy, something urban people hate unless it comes with a heaping dose of irony. The cars’ relative slowness could shame even the pokiest crosstown bus line and, to add insult to injury, it’s $5 a pop if you don’t have a pass.
But that doesn’t have to be the case. I took my first memorable ride in 2008, the first year I had my own Fast Pass and therefore got “free” rides on the world’s only operating cable car system. I rode one because, well, why not?
Immediately, I was hooked, but no one else seemed to understand. These charming transit vehicles are too good for tourists’ use only. This story is my attempt to shed some light on the most misunderstood of SF icons, the trolley.
Freestylin’ 49 04.20.10
Photo by Flickr user Transguyjay
Color me confused with a hint of annoyance, to be all angry-Muni-rider about it.
The gist: I get on a 49 at Van Ness and Oak, for my southbound journey into the Mish. Twice, at the same time of day, the same driver says that 14th Street will be the last stop. (Hint: it’s not supposed to be). A 14 or another 49 showed up both times before long. But it is cause for some mild WTF, particularly if it happens twice at the same time.
Sidenote: I’m all for a soft-spoken kinda guy, but this driver needs to speak up when he says that 14th Street will be the last stop. As expected, come 14th Street, a few people get off. But 20 other people sit confused as fellow passengers assume the task of explaining that this is indeed the final stop.
Also: The first time it happened, there was no indication on the bus’s marquee that it was ending its route at 14th Street. The second time, the sign was in that in-between-signs state. Like, maybe it says 14th, but wait … *hates self*
My understanding was that truncated lines are one-offs; they’re thrown in to thin the crowd of everyone that couldn’t get the earlier bus because it didn’t show up. So? Why’s this happening? Theories, whether serious or comedic fiction, welcome.
Mister Muni Manners 04.02.10
Photo by Flickr user annnna.
For better or worse, this can go straight into our warm-and-fuzzy category of Muni stories.
I was on a 49-Van Ness/Mission trying to get home one evening after work. It was a really nice day: one of several schizophrenic, nice weather vs. crappy weather ones we’ve been having. As usual, the bus was full by the time it got to my stop. I grabbed a spot, held on, and spaced out. Then, I hear the tiniest “excuse me.” It sounded like it came from a fairy sitting in someone’s pocket. I looked around and didn’t see anything, so I commenced spacing.
I heard it again, then looked down at a little boy sitting in a seat near me. He looked from me to his dad, who indicated that he should give up his seat for the nice lady (hey, that’s me!). But he had to say it himself: “would you like to sit down?” asked the tiniest, politest person I think I’ve ever met.
I thanked him, but declined the seat. On my way out, I told his pop that he had a really nice boy.
1) Yeah, yeah, I don’t care if pop only does that to get at the ladies. It’s still nice.
2) I’m not gonna lie, I think it’s bogus when men push me out of the way to get to a fresh seat first. Equal rights and chivalry aren’t mutually exclusive, after all. So it made me extra happy to see semblances of it on the bus.
3) Did I mention I was on the 49? And that something nice happened on it?
Pleasant surprises 12.22.09
Photo by Telstar Logistics
It’s hard out there for an urban lady. You get cat-calls on your way to work, then you get yelled at all the way down the block for ignoring them. You turn around and look at everyone walking behind you, conveying to even the innocents that you could identify them in a lineup if you had to. It’s a part of a semi-automatic routine adopted for our various journeys throughout town. So pardon us if we’re a little suspicious of any and all people, particularly males, if we’re waiting for the bus.
So there’s this tall, larger, older-to-middle-age guy standing at the 14-Mission/49-Van Ness/former 26-Valencia stop on Otis Street. He’s got a little bag of presents in a tote bag, a receptacle that, for some reason, was not capable of holding the many items he had dangling around his neck. FastPass. Keys. Other card-type things. He’d probably have a troll on there if he could. His jeans are hiked up beyond his gut, resting comfortably around his chest. His vibe was a little off, right from the get-go. But a lot of people in SF are a little off; the question, as always, remains as to whether he was silly-off or dangerous-off.
He turns and asks me and Jeff, Mr. Muni Diaries, about the 26, after realizing on his own that it wasn’t in service anymore. His conversational rhythm came with lengthy, continued stares once you’ve answered his questions. He didn’t turn and look away at anything while he was talking. He didn’t turn around and see if the bus was down the street. While he stared our faces raw, he explained how he had many VHS tapes he was attempting to convert; had a little machine and everything. We basically ran into Milton from Office Space.
Less than a minute into this conversation, I did what any urban lady (or gentleman) does: suspiciously attempt to figure out whether this stranger is dangerous or just weird. The resulting train of thought, for those of us who weren’t Green Berets, is actually an amazing one, I must say. It can prompt everything from laughter, to embarrassment, to relief, to further suspicion, in the span of a minute, unlike any other learned or innate behavior.
“…what’s he staring at?” > “Hmm, could he be sizing me up for his freezer at home?” > “Does he have anything sharp?” > “What’s his expression like…you can always tell these psycho killers from their eyes, right?” > “Ah. Harmless.” It was a pleasant surprise, one that did make me feel a little silly (Who’s afraid of Milton? Turns out I am.)
But I really wouldn’t have it any other way if I’m going to keep (and I will) calling this wacky place home. Thanks, evolution.
Obit-lettes: 21-Hayes, 10-Townsend 12.03.09
Photo by Flickr user kodama (home)
SFMTA’s December 5 service changes include the elimination of portions of bus routes, in addition to the total elimination of some routes, and in other cases, increased service. A few riders wanted to share their thoughts on those parts of routes that will go the way of the dodo come this Saturday. First, here’s Noah, sparing no words for how he really feels about lopping off the Fulton portion of the 21-Hayes:
Good riddance.
Before the death of the Fulton portion of the 21-Hayes, people who lived on Fulton between Stanyan and 8th Ave had the benefit of two buses, the 5 and the 21. People who boarded the 21 on Hayes anywhere East of Divis had the benefit of zero buses during rush hour, because the 21 was always too full to stop.
Now, those of us who ride the 21 in a neighborhood where only the 21 goes by actually have a bus we can ride during rush hour.
SF Appeal has a helpful explanation of what exactly will be happening to the 21.
Next up is Muni Diaries favorite Tara, with a tale of woeful days ahead without her 10-Townsend:
Once BART drops me off at Embarcadero each morning at about 8:50, I scramble frantically, depending on what the NextBus prediction says, to Fremont and Market, awaiting my golden chariot: the 10-Townsend. It, usually reliably, takes me from downtown to the north end of town. It’s quiet, filled with polite folks (except for that one old guy I fought with that time), and rolls through one of the most thriving parts of town at 8:55 a.m. on a weekday. That said, it, um, pretty much empties by the time we pass Sansome and Lombard.
Though some lines are meeting their demise come Dec. 5, others, like the 10, are simply getting rerouted at certain points. Though yuppies like me should be able to deal with a minor glitch in his or her morning bus routine, yuppies like me end up having the biggest shitfits over this very thing. Total White Whine, if you will.
The long and short of it is that the 10 is now turning west on Jackson, instead of taking me all the way north, to my building at North Point and Stockton. I will miss you, that-part-of-the-10. Instead of jamming to my iPod or reading some to-be-a-movie-soon novel from Oprah’s list of recommendations, I usually preferred to stare out the window and watch the hubbub unfold. These are people going to work, bustling around in their businesswear and messenger bags. It actually makes me happy to be going to work, too, like we’re all in some sort of metropolitan club from 9-6 on weekdays. The best part was getting to see it all from my chariot, above the fray. I can still do some of that…but then I’ll have waited 10 minutes for a 10 minute bus ride, only to require another 15 minutes of walking. I might just have to bid adieu to the 10 altogether and walk the whole way, as it might not be worth the hassle when all is said and done.
Ultimately, if it’ll save Muni some cash, I can deal with it. The only thing it does is force me to leave the house about 15 minutes earlier in the morning, allowing me time to walk from downtown to Way Up There. Or, it forces me to hop on a 9x or a 9BX (soon to be rechristened the 8X, etc.), in the event I feel like a nice pushy morning ride or an elbow to the ribs is needed to jolt me awake for the day ahead. Either way, I will deal with it. But it doesn’t stop me from complaining about it here.
We’ll give you a break, Muni, if it’ll save you the cash. But try to cut us some slack next week while we all begrudgingly try to turn the speeding freight train around on our befuddled morning selves.
Check back tomorrow for the last of our Muni obituaries. It will be an all-day tribute to the almost-dearly departed 26-Valencia.
The why/where/how of fare inspectors 10.22.09
Photo by Flickr user WeMeantDemocracy
It’s easy for us law-abiding, government-loving socialists to cheer when Muni fare inspectors show up on the bus. And cheer I did this week, when an alpha fare-inspector and her two ticket-wielding comrades showed up on my 47-Van Ness a couple days ago and handed out at least two tickets.
Though some drivers do have the time and desire to come up with creative punishments for fare-jumping, it’s understandable that most of them do not. Enter fare inspectors. Though one guy in front of me complained about Big Brother watching us, I personally don’t think it counts as some kind of police state if the law-enforcers are actually nabbing people who did wrong. Still, once I stopped silently cheering them on from my seat, I did start thinking about the why/where/how of back-door policing.
From an Oct. 19 SFGate story
Fare evasion on Muni occurs most frequently in the afternoon and at night, the study found. Among the lines where the problem is most prevalent are the 9-San Bruno, 14-Mission, 38-Geary and 47-Van Ness, but few are immune.
It doesn’t seem like an accident that the 47, one of four lines called out in this story, ended up with not one, but three fare inspectors the day after this story ran. Great, whatever works, right? But it did lead me to wonder whether the fare-checking would continue in earnest once the story died down and once the SFMTA office was jammed with people contesting their fines.
In other words, I wondered whether this was simply a good show or temporary move to prove that something was being done. Or will fare-jumping significantly decrease in a year’s time? I certainly hope it’s the latter, especially since I’d argue that fare-jumping is easier to eradicate than other types of petty crime.
Let me explain. We learned from an SF Gate story on crime cameras that certain crimes (homicide, drug deals, etc.) are conveniently moved out of the cameras’ range if cameras are around, thereby decreasing the crime in one area and increasing it one block down. Before you know it, it’s a life-size game of whack-a-mole for the police.
Fare-jumping seems more precise than that. If you’re on Van Ness and want to head into the Mission on Muni, the 49-Van Ness or 14-Mission is your only real way to accomplish this. If you know there are fare inspectors on either line, you are either going to pay your fare, take your chances, or find another line to jump if all you’re into is wasting time on the bus. But if there’s regular fare-inspecting, I think jumpers are more easily backed into a corner, as there are only so many lines that can remain uncovered. Especially if there are more fare inspectors on the hottest jumping lines, during the hottest jumping times.
Or maybe this is completely false logic. Nonetheless, fare inspectors really can’t hurt anyone, in my opinion.
Disclaimer: Before I officially lived in SF and carried a trusty FastPass wherever I went (and uh, before I contributed regularly to a transit-oriented website), I’d somewhat regularly sneak onto the back of an F-Market/Wharves line on my way to work. I could have easily paid the then-$1.50 a ride, but I couldn’t be bothered. I didn’t have cash. Muni “owed” me for some transgression. Everyone else was doing it. All of these are poor excuses.
The NextBus Flap: A Tilted Playing Field for iPhone Apps? (update) 08.19.09
Update (Aug. 19, 3:15 p.m.): SF Appeal has more or less wrapped this story of lameness up. MTA and Apple have both told NBIS to take a hike, and don’t let the door hit ya … Oh, and now that Routesy is live once again, we’ll be finishing up our review and posting it soon. It was cut short as this whole brouhaha went down.
Original post (July 10): Once upon a time, in the not-so-distant past, Ken Schmier and Alex Orloff at NextBus Information Systems (NBIS) got in a fight with Steven Peterson of Routesy. Who are these people? What’s NBIS? Where’s my bus? Good questions.
So, here it goes. We’ve all seen the bus-arrival data flashing at us from bus shelters across town; many of you have probably gotten it on your cellphone. But the matter of who owns this data and who can use it recently became a hot debate when Peterson, the developer of the iPhone app Routesy, got into a disagreement with NBIS, the company that claims to have rights to that sometimes-accurate information flashing at you from the bus stop and on the interwebs.
Oh, and when we say “NBIS,” that is not the same thing as NextBus, Inc.
I know.
Contrition and Acceptance on the 10 08.12.09
Photo by Flickr user heather
Lady by door gets bumped, says to offender: You could say “excuse me.”
Offender: I did say excuse me!
Lady: You could say it louder.
Offender: EXCUSE ME. How’s that?
Lady: It’s over. Hello, goodbye.
Offender: UGH. *exits*
Lady: Whatever. Bitch.
