Tales of the 49

I spent much of last Monday working at home. So, the first people I came into contact with all day were fellow 49 riders, headed north on Van Ness from the Mission, around 6 p.m. Needless to say (it was my own fault, goddamn me) I don’t recommend this to be your first, face-to-face interaction with the outside world.

Tale 1: There’s a woman on the bus with her tiny kid on her lap, and her baby paraphernalia, including a stroller, leaning on the seat next to her. I hate Seat Jabbas; you know – the people who take up enormous amounts of horizontal space, thanks to their bag, their computer, their food, etc. etc. etc. Yet, I can draw the distinction between unknowing/uncaring asshole, and a woman who clearly did not prefer Muni for whatever errand she was doing. We all love to hate cars, but this woman could probably use one.

In comes a crusty, probably not crazy but definitely pushy, woman who demands the mom take her stuff off the seat. Her reasoning? “You didn’t pay for all those seats.”

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Dear SF Police…

Thanks for doing more foot patrols. I am highly offended, though, that I’ve seen more police in Fisherman’s Wharf (for those gun-toting tourists?) than in some of the shittier, crime-ridden areas of town. Ross Mirkarimi is probably having a brain aneurysm as we speak.

It really wasn’t a huge deal until I saw three SF police chopping it up with some friendly old ladies from Where the Fuck Ever, then getting upset because my FastPass wasn’t visible when I came in through the back door, this one time on the F line. Those non-visible FastPasses are the real reason SF is anchored on the crime map these days, thanks for doing your part.

I get how police can’t be everywhere at once and how crime is sometimes very random. But there is a proven halo effect around police stations (and cops), so I’d appreciate seeing you more near those wackos in the Mission than near the fanny packs in Pier 39.

Your friend (taxpaying citizen),

Tara

(near) death by Muni

I’m wary of all Muni drivers, and you should be, too. Walking across Geary (yikes) the other day, I preferred to stand in the unguarded median than race an oncoming 38. While drivers of regular vehicles will usually stop for a pedestrian in an unlighted crosswalk (you know, it being the law and everything), Muni is clearly above this standard.

I’m not just bagging on our favorite local transit agency because of a continuing killing streak the buses seem to have been on the last few years. It’s highly cool to hate Muni, of course, but I’m not just jumping on the bandwagon.

I walk a lot. Alone, usually. I obey more traffic signals than most of my fellow pedestrians who, braver than I, will dart in front of a California Street cable car because it takes too long to wait for our light. So, I get really pissed off when Muni buses (to name names, the 10-Townsend when it’s on North Point and the 33-Stanyan when it’s on 18th Street) take the red light like it ain’t no thang. I follow the rules. Are you going to?

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Seat Graffiti Glue

File under WTF …

Saw the gem above on my first ride on the 31, from middle Richmond to Third and Market. Oh, and Google Maps said the trip would take 38 mins, but it turned out to be more like 50. It goes through the Tenderloin, after all.

Anyway, yes, there was glue-graffiti on some of the backseats. My impulse is to shake my head and say, “Kids.” But I was a kid not so long ago. Still, I can’t see what would possess someone to do this. You can read it even less clearly than most tagging.

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