Java Jolt for a VIP Muni Driver 02.09.12
Photo: Jeremy Brooks
Rachel at Fog City Notes runs an important errand for her favorite 22 driver. I’d need something stronger than coffee to pilot a 22-Fillmore, but this guy’s clearly a pro.
“Dear,” said the driver, “would you mind getting me a coffee when we get to Starbucks?” He smiled and pressed $20 into my hand.
“Of course,” I said. “How do you take it?”
He stopped the bus in front of Starbucks and I hopped down. “I’ll wait for you across the street,” he said, and pointed to the bus stop up ahead. I bought him his coffee — black with two sugars — pocketed his change and walked back out into the fog to meet the bus.
“Here you go, sir,” I said, handing him his coffee, change, and napkins.
“Thanks, my dear,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” I told him.
It felt strange and routine at the same time, an errand for a friend who’s name I don’t know. A $20 test of trust. I hope the coffee kept him warm and focused on this damp, foggy morning.
If only everyone asked for their coffee this nicely. Hope you enjoyed it, 22 driver. Make like Rachel and tell us all about your commute.
‘Model’ Muni Citizen on 1-California 02.02.12
Sometimes, photographing ridiculously good-looking Muni riders is too difficult. From rider Judy, here’s an artful, alternate method of capturing the moment:
I just had to draw this watercolor/sketch of him. There are so many well-dressed people on the 1-California but…jesus. He had a perfect boyish model thing going on. Kudos to all well-dressed/stylish Muni riders!
And kudos to you, boyish model dude; you just got singled out on the beautiful-person’s Muni line!
Between this and @LindapopSF‘s Popup Poems, we’re way into these analog means of expression. Submit your Muni captures — analog and digital — today.
What to do on Muni in case of emergencies? 02.01.12
Photo by Chris Wronski
This morning I was on my commute to work and saw the bus fire at Oak and Cole in the panhandle. The back of the bus was black and charred. There were police on the scene. The bus was stalled in the middle of the street. It did not look like there were any riders standing around so hopefully everyone got out OK.
As we went around the fallen bus, I realized that if the 16x I was riding suddenly caught fire, I would not know what to do.
72Hours.org has some emergency tips for transit riders.
- Only use cell phones if you absolutely must as they could interfere with emergency equipment.
- When riding Muni, never leave an underground streetcar unless instructed or assisted by transit employees or rescue personnel. High voltage electrical systems that power the cars can be extremely dangerous.
- If you’re instructed to evacuate, take your belongings (but leave your bicycle behind).
The labeled emergency exit signs on the bus suggest that you pull the handles down and push the bottom of the window outward to exit the bus. There are also overhead exits, you know, the ones that leak rain on you when the weather’s bad.
Be Mime: Lost Wallet on Muni Leads to Love 01.24.12
Photo by Michela
Muni rider Elyse has a story that proves: You never know when or where (ahem, Muni) you’re gonna meet that person who has a way of changing your life.
Late that night, while on my way out to the Mission on the 33 bus line from Twin Peaks, with my housemate and a friend from out of town, the one-woman band of my dreams from SF Weekly boards the bus, Beat-Feet and all. Joking, my friends and I discuss which one of us was going to write the Missed Connection on
Craigslist later that night.
I make eyes her way and depart the bus shortly thereafter to go to the bar. Upon arriving at the bar I find that I have lost my wallet, and cannot even go into the bar with my friends. Going back to the bus route I check all the buses coming back and spend the rest of the night worrying about my lost belongings.
Three weeks later, all cards cancelled and renewed, I am spending a quiet evening going through Facebook random requests and see one from a name I do not know, but who does reside in San Francisco. It says she was in a clown college but the profile picture didn’t let me see her face. I decided to friend this person and just check it out, and upon realizing who the girl was I simultaneously realized that she must have found my wallet to have known my name and find me. I then found a message sent roughly three weeks prior with the friend request with her number. Quickly I called and left a voicemail, but didn’t hear back from her for the rest of the day.
Later that night, another housemate of mine, who obviously knew the entire story of just who found my wallet, runs into the cutely dressed mime, busking on a street corner, and she gets on a bus with him and decides to come to my house to explain what has since happened to my wallet.
I at the time am getting ready to go out in the Mission, and have been drinking for roughly two hours, with a friend from college. My roommate texts me and tells me not to leave until he gets home, thinking he is sick or something I obviously stay.
When he gets to the house with my surprise, my friends realize it is the Mime musician from the bus and from the magazine. She had come to my front door to explain that she had taken the twenty dollars and BART card in my wallet, and given the wallet itself to a friend, and also had cut up my cards. My addresses on all my cards were, at that time, San Diego and she hadn’t thought I really lived in San Francisco. She offered to play me a song with her Beat-Feet, and as I graciously accept she plays “Kiss” by Prince and my heart melts. And slowly but surely after months of easing into this magical experience we are deeply in love and laugh and play every day on the streets of San Francisco together.
We love Muni stories of all stripes. Got a Muni story? Share it here on Muni Diaries.
Mutiny on Muni: How was your three-hour commute to Candlestick? 01.23.12
Photo by Brandon Doran
We were coming in hot. A few mimosas deep, tall boys in hand, and standing patiently at the corner of Van Ness and California, this motley crew was about to embark on the chant-filled, booze-sneaking, 15-minute 77X shuttle ride to Candlestick Park.
I can’t claim lifelong fanaticism for the 49ers, but being a San Francisco resident has taught me that you don’t miss a party in this town. The NFC Championship game had all of the potential to turn this city upside down.
Flash forward two and a half hours. We’re STILL on the 77X “express shuttle” parked on the 101. The tall cans have been consumed, the chants are falling on bitter ears, and the collective need to urinate is creating a thickness in the air you can cut with a knife. We pray…and look for any receptacle to use as a restroom.
The driver is stuck between four lanes of traffic and an increasingly agitated ridership. Passengers start discussing a plan. “Back door!” one yells, but there is nothing he can do. I am assuming the law prohibits Muni from releasing passengers on the freeway.
“I can’t take this any more!” another yells and the tide begins to swell. People are standing, swaying and ready to make their move — a mutiny is rising.
When the first passenger opens the emergency window there are a few jeers from the crowd. “Ha ha…now put the window down” is what we are all thinking. Then the first lemming jumps. I see her smiling impishly as she crawls through the window, falls onto the hard concrete of the 101 freeway and runs giggling with a drink in her hand down the side of the freeway. Then another jumps ship and another.
One after another these angry pirates help each other off the plank through the emergency window and run laughing like small children down a packed highway. They run as far as they can until the need to relieve themselves is too much. For some this is through a hole in a fence into an empty field, but for others it’s on the retaining wall next to the freeway for thousands of 49ers fans to enjoy while driving to the ‘Stick. Cell phone photos are snapped, passersby cheer for these liberated souls. Occupiers might make more news, but this is as organic a protest as I’ve seen. It is, simply put, art.
Long story short, for those who sided with the Captain of the 77X, it took more than 3 hours and 15 minutes to get approximately 7 miles. Tailgates were missed out on, frustrations reached their peak…it was a tough day.
For those who chose mutiny, the Niners loss didn’t sting as bad. They will have a story to tell of courage, community, and a pleasant Sunday stroll through Hunters Point.
Were you aboard the world’s slowest-moving public transportation vehicle yesterday? This is the place to commiserate.
Again with the Muni Theft: Purse-Snatching on the 38 01.19.12
Image: Steve Rhodes
So I’m on the 38 outbound on a Wednesday morning…we’re riding down the street and the bus comes to a stop to load a passenger on when we hear this loud SCREAM…It’s a lady yelling “Hey!!! No!!!!” She is fighting with a guy that snatched her purse! He takes off running and she gets off the bus and goes after him. Our bus driver drives off as if nothing happened. It was 8:05 a.m. mind you…I knew he was bad news when I laid eyes on him. During the ride he kept staring at people up and down. No one deserves to get their purse snatched on their way to work but come on, ladies! Don’t sit so far back and keep your belongings next to your body! She sat right in front of the LAST doors when there were seats everywhere even next to the 2nd doors. People please be aware of your surroundings and hold your belongings close to yourself…and avoid sitting around the 3rd doors.
Some sage advice, wherever you’re sitting: hold on to your stuff and scan your surroundings, especially if you’re near a door.
What’s happening on Muni? Share your stories.
‘Jack. In. The. Box. Jackinthebox.’ 01.19.12
Photo by nchenga nchenga
Whoa, Nelly. Karen has quite the 38-Geary experience to share. Let the tea steep, get comfortable, and take this one in.
But one night stands out above all others, and has changed the way I think about a certain fast food restaurant – or at least the way I pronounce it.
I got on at Market and Fremont, as usual, and settled in. To get to 14th and Geary took forever, especially since the 38L had stopped running and that meant that we had to stop at every single stop. A few blocks later, a man in a filthy ski jacket with a pik and a Butterfinger wrapper in his giant afro got on and sat directly in front of me. He smelled a little ripe. “Oh great,” I thought, especially after I heard him muttering to himself. “It’s going to be a really, really long ride.” But then I leaned in closer to hear what he was saying.
“Jackinthebox. Jackinthebox. Jack. In. The. Box. Jackinthebox. Jackinthebox. Jack. In. The Box. Jackinthebox.”
Wow. He was clearly a big Jack in the Box fan, and I figured that I would be amused up until we got to the Jack in the Box at Mason, where he would get off. I listened, delightedly, as he chanted and muttered and proclaimed his favorite selections – “Teri-YAKI BOWL! Teri-YAKI Bowl? Jumbojack CHEESEBURGER!”
However, Mason St came and went, and two people had moved just to get away from him. And I realized:
He was going to the Jack in the Box on 10th and Geary. One stop before mine. YESSS!!!!!!!!!!
So the entire way, I got to hear his chanting and his monologue, which got crazier and crazier and faster and faster as the ride went on. Just past Japantown he opened the window and started throwing out stuff from his pockets; napkins and wrappers and whatever else was in there. (The Butterfinger wrapper stayed put, though.) I like to think it was confetti for the party that was ABOUT TO HAPPEN. By this time, about 3 other people had changed seats to get away from him, as he was bouncing with glee.
And then… We were in the Avenues. Just past Arguello he started getting really excited, and the chanting got louder. “Jackinthebox, jackinthebox, jack. In. The. Box. jackinthebox, JACKINTHEBOX!!!!!!!!” People gave each other looks like, “Whoa, he is cuh-raaaaaaazy,” but I refused to participate. I was on HIS SIDE. He could unleash all the crazy he wanted – he was so steadfast in his love for Jack in the Box, his intentions so pure, that he had my full support. (And my undying love, only matched by his undying love for Jack’s Buttermilk House Dressing which he shouted about just past Van Ness.)
At 8th and Geary, his excitement could not be contained. (Neither could mine.) He started ringing the bell, and his “Jackinthebox” mantra had hit a fevered pitch. As the bus slowed down to pull over, he was rocking back and forth with such force that my bench was shaking. And then, the bus came to a stop and he jumped up with a mighty scream…
And farted directly in my face.
The last I saw of my Jack in the Box friend he was tearing across Geary, arms akimbo, running to the Promised Land of Sourdough Cheeseburgers and Curly Fries. I thought of him barging in on the unsuspecting workers and customers, and was jealous. They had no idea what treat was in store for them!
I have a few regrets in my life – giving up my supercheap apartment downtown, saying “sure, I’d love to go on a date with you!” to a few people, being an English major – but the one I regret most of all is not getting off the bus and following him into that Jack in the Box. What did he order? How did he pay? Did he replace the Butterfinger wrapper with perhaps a packet of taco sauce? Ahhh, mysteries of life for which we’ll never have an answer. But some things I know for sure: I have never been able to say, “Jack in the Box” the same way ever again, and every time I see the commercials, I think of him and hope he’s enjoying a delicious Jumbo Jack, wherever he is… Even if it’s on the 38-Geary.
It’s best to keep regrets to a minimum, we say. Stop holding back, and share your amazing Muni stories today.
iThwart: Muni iPhone Theft Gone Wrong 01.18.12
Photo by Steve Rhodes
Last night, three 38Ls rode by, all of them packed to the gills, so I waited for the regular. When it came, it wasn’t crowded but there weren’t any free seats, so I stood near the accordion fold.
There were a few kids in the back door stairwell. They played with their phones and slurped tapioca drinks.I don’t know why I watched the kids – nothing else to occupy myself with, I guess.
Most of them got out at Scott, then a couple at Divisadero.
The bus stopped at Baker and the doors opened with their usual hydraulic whoosh.
Two kids got out, and then the last kid lunged at a woman sitting across from the door and ripped the iPhone out of her hands.
She pulled away from him and shouted something. And then I was at the door too, yelling, “HEY, HEY, HEY!” as loudly as I could, grabbing for the boy, grabbing for the bright white phone, the headphones, whatever I could get a hold of.
We scrabbled for the phone and got it back. The kid took off down the street, his hood covering his face, no chance to identify him if it ever came to that.
The bus driver didn’t pay any attention. She shut the doors and we were on our way.
The woman sat back down and wound her headphones around her phone before shoving it into her bag.
“Thanks,” she said.
No one else said a thing, and no one moved.
Wow. Watch out for your phones, purses, and other items on the bus, everybody. Not everyone’s lucky enough to ride the bus with Rachel. Got your own Muni story? We wanna hear it.
Car No. 1 being tested on the L-Taraval line 01.13.12
Happy Friday the 13th! Muni rider Geoff sends us this report:
Check out these flickr photos of an F line car i’ve never seen, being tested on the L line.
That so happens to be Muni’s Car No. 1, which the good folks at Market Street Railway haveBrookville Equipment Company of Pennsylvania has been restoring since 2009. Rick L. at MSR says that Muni is testing the car, and that they hope to have it in service sometime this year for Muni’s centennial celebration. Car No. 1 “was just out stretching its legs,” Rick said. He added, “I don’t know when it will go into service. Muni wants to introduce it to the public as part of its centennial year (which started last December 28).”
And in related news, another new-to-Muni PCCs hit the streets recently. Car No. 1080 is workin’ the F-Market lines as of Wednesday. Car No. 1071 started spinning its wheels in late December. @metsfaninCA tweeted us this photo of both streetcars in action yesterday evening:
‘Sorry Baby, My Tomato’ 01.12.12
Photo by Jason Tester
Beware of all fluids on the bus. As Kristee tells us:
Startled, I look up and there on the hand railing was a gnarled old fist tightly gripping a half-eaten ripe tomato. I loudly cleared my throat to express my irritation. In the smoothest Isaac Hayes voice, he calmly said, ‘Awww… sorry baby, my tomato,’ and casually stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans.
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