While trolling America’s most trusted news source, The Onion, this headline leaped straight into my retinas (and my nose, and my grossly accurate smell memory):

Bus Passenger Believes She Lives In World Where Curried Shrimp Is Odorless

It’s not just curried shrimp for us Muni riders, of course. It’s fried chicken with a tinge of formaldehyde on the 71. It’s your neighbor’s unbecoming new scent, “hot yoga studio but filled w hippies+Mexi food+used diapers,” on the 1. Just as easily, Muni smells like hot-dog juice, fertilizer, week-old pants, or pancakes (AKA the worst breakfast ever).

“Muni totally smells like” is one of our favorite Twitter themes, and it can often make one hell of a story. Send that stuff our way @munidiaries on Twitter or to good ol’ email at muni.diaries.sf@gmail.com

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Renee over at KFOG had quite a surprise when she took some visitors on the F over the weekend.

It was a beautiful day in San Francisco last Saturday. I had been showing my relatives from Vienna, Austria around and we hopped on the F Line. We took the back row and there were a few Swiss kids sitting near us when a man took a seat, a little to close to me and started showing us a small bulb-like thing that looked like a Christmas ornament.

He said, “This is a crackpipe. Look.” and proceeded to light the thing and smoke the residue on the F-Line.

Lovely.

Needless to say I lost my shit with him. When I did, the man said, “Why are you even talking to me if you don’t have money to give me?”

Whoa. Sassy crack guy. How do you explain this to tourists (or kids, for that matter) on Muni? Comment away, or tell us your Muni story.

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Have you ever been harassed on the bus? You’d think that after the Muni Humper, people would learn. Not so much. Recently we received a report from Stella, who found some really suspicious bad behavior on the 8X-Bayshore Express.

“I was sitting on the single seats on the 8X and a man got on the bus and held the pole next to my seat…the bus makes a small turn and the man leans toward me and brushes my arm with his hand. I mean this might be understandable if it was a wide turn and if we were going pretty fast, but the bus was not. The 8X is typically a crowded bus and as a non-confrontational person, I didn’t accuse him of anything just yet. So after that I turned my head in his direction and he was staring down at me.

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Rachael posted an interesting question on the Muni Diaries Facebook Page yesterday:

Maybe I’m weird about germs but to me walking around barefoot is no more/less gross than touching everything on the bus then sitting down to eat a sandwich. Why do people eat on Muni?

Which led me to wonder which was actually grosser. I haven’t decided yet, but I’ve probably spent too much time thinking about it already.

The floor is just plain grody. I’ve let bare legs and bare hands touch seats and rails before even thinking about putting a bag on the floor. I think we can agree that the chicken and formaldehyde combo platter is an appetite-killer for all involved. But Muni riders snack on food that isn’t stuck to the window all the time, and it doesn’t always bother me. That said, we use our bare hands to eat, sometimes before washing our hands when we’re late to dinner and about to eat a limb for sustenance. OK, maybe by we, I mean me.

But, which is worse? Barefoot riding or eating while riding?

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Despite the presence of many, probably wet groceries on the 8BX, I immediately thought this liquid coming toward me was urine. I didn’t immediately catch that it, advancing slowly in my periphery, was reddish. And you really can’t blame me after this. Or, I guess, if you’ve ever sat in the back of a bus.

I’m guessing it’s blood coming from that grocery bag, but feel free to enlighten me with your theories.

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A couple weeks ago, rider Martha told us about a 49-Van Ness that smelled like basil, which was noteworthy because the 49 never smells like something you’d want to eat.

“Muni smells like…” actually shows up a lot on the @munidiaries Twitter feed. Here are our recent favorites.

Yummy
@jessicasuzette: #Muni smelled like strawberries, somebody went to #farmersmarket love clean trains.

Could go either way
@WillieFDiazSF: Someone on this Muni bus smells like Hot Dog juice. Makes me wanna have a BBQ.
@jdaisy: this LTaraval smells like fish AND chips.

The Bad
@cache_theory: the smells of the #sfmuni…urine & moth balls
@RGreenberg: Guy just got on #muni smelling like week-old pants, and fertilizer.

The Optimistic
@fsquared: This bus smells like pancakes and syrup. #wishfulthinking #muni

We’re constantly impressed by your creativity and the, um, evocative descriptions you send. So keep ‘em comin’!

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Jeff (not me) has got a doozy …

Last week (or maybe the week before), the Van Ness Station smelled like farts, or a sewer line broke, or something, for several days. Pretty gross.

Then one day about 2 p.m. on my way to work, I’m heading down the stairs and this dude is walking to go up the escalator and talking on a cell phone. With his other hand, he starts grabbing at his crotch — which catches my attention.

He then pulls out his schlong, looks at me straight in the eye as we pass by each other. I look back and as he heads up the escalator, he starts pissing while talking on the phone. And there’s a lady about 10 feet ahead of him.

Just another Tuesday. I now know why the place smelled like a sewer.

Well, that explains that. Thanks for sharing, Jeff (not me)!

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Muni rider Scott spins a, uh, wet one for us from the 5-Fulton.

Best Muni moment; I have many but this tops!

On my way to USF from Montgomery Street, I get on the 5-Fulton one weekday morning. Nothing unusual, I sit one row from the back sipping my coffee reading the Chronicle. We turn onto McAllister Street, and a woman jumps on the bus and sits in the very corner of the last row. I try not stare, but can clearly see this person is completely whacked out of her mind.

I’m not surprised as we entered the Tenderloin. I continued to read until I notice some liquid on the floor coming from that particular corner of the bus. Just then a gorgeous girl was walking to the rear of the bus. As she was about to sit down in front of the woman, I kind of grabbed her with a slight nod, then said you should really sit over here, instead. She looked at me as I drew her attention to the mess in the back. We are not at Van Ness yet, but the woman gets up and leaves.

This normally would be the end of the story but not this time. Both the gorgeous girl and I leaned back to see what the hell was dripping and realized that the person decided to relieve herself on the bus. It was a pool, too. We both looked at each other and knew that, well, this is Muni and you get all kinds of weird things happening. Just as we figured out it was piss, a group of kids no older than 12 jumped in the back of the bus and seated themselves on the wet seats. One yelled out, “What the hell is this?” as the other is sitting in it getting drenched. Two of the kids moved from their seats but the last kid exclaimed, “I’m a pimp and this shit don’t bother me.” He sat in a pool of piss for the remainder of my trip.

As always, a friendly reminder to check your seats and beware moving liquid on the bus. Sometimes, it’s wee-wee, folks.

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When we started Muni Diaries, one of the first stories was about nail-clipping on the bus. It’s become such a popular rant that we even incorporate it into Muni Diaries Live in the audience portion — Suzanne’s big toenail clipper is the signal that your time on stage is up. I guess when some people have to clip their nails, the urge to so is like needing your fix for caffeine, chocolate, or heroin.

That, or people still don’t care that this ends up online.

Photo by Muni rider XC.

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Katie posted a story on her Tumblr blog (A Streetcar Called Taraval) that had me covering my face in laughter and horror. Read on:

So I’m riding a 71 from downtown with my boyfriend. At Sixth street, a woman begs the driver, “I don’t have any money, I just need to go to the hospital!” The driver doesn’t have time for her story, so he lets her on without fare. She sits in the designated seating, spread across three seats. She’s wearing an ankle-length skirt. She has a stained T-shirt stretched over pendulous breasts that reach her navel. She has a shock of bright pink hair and is about 5’3” and 350. It’s late December, and she’s smiling and wishing a Merry Christmas to all of the riders.

All the locals summarily ignore her because we’re used to sixth street crazies on the bus. Then she starts itching her leg. She works her skirt up a little bit and claws at her calf. Whatever. A couple of tourists get on the bus with their muni 3-day passports. They look like a young couple from New England. The woman wishes them a drunk “Merrrrry Christmuss!!” and smiles. They awkwardly exchange a holiday greeting back. This woman has since moved on to itching her inner knee…. Her skirt is hiked up a little bit more, so she can reach it. She’s still overflowing with holiday cheer.

Finish reading Katie’s story on A Streetcar Called Taraval.

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