‘Contact high’ on Muni? 06.21.10
Photo by Troy Holden
A few weeks ago we asked you how the Muni service cuts were affecting you. Daishin had this completely unexpected outcome from the service cuts:
Yesterday I was forced to take the 49 up Van Ness from Market because I didn’t feel well enough to walk the several blocks to my house. The bus was so crowded no one could move. I was standing next to a lovely beautiful young woman with bracelets up and down her arms and wonderful tats on her bare shoulders.
She kept smiling sweetly at me and tried to make eye contact. After a few minutes it dawned on me that she was totally fucked up on something so I asked her if she was wasted. She smiled even more broadly and said, “YES! I’m just glad to see that there are plenty of young people in San Francisco still getting stoned and riding Muni like we used to do in the 1960s, albeit it’s a hell of a lot more uncomfortable these days.”
Loretta: Muni bus driver, guardian angel 05.26.10
Photo by Kristen Holden
Last night I fell asleep riding the 49 inbound up Van Ness around 9 p.m. Fell asleep BAD. Like I’m surprised no one checked my pulse to see if I was still alive (well, maybe they did and I just slept through it). When I woke up, I realized I had missed my stop at Jackson by several blocks and raced out the door. Shortly thereafter, I discovered that my phone, which I had been holding when I fell asleep, was no longer with me. I panicked, but there was no way to catch up to the bus.
I got to my friend’s house, and used his phone to call mine. Nobody picked up, and I expected the worst. It was a hat-trick in the worst way: the Giants get shut out by the A’s, I miss the season finale of LOST, and my cell phone is now being kicked around an empty bus. But awhile later we got a call from Loretta, the Nicest Bus Driver on the Planet. She had found my phone, and rather than sending it to lost and found—where she insisted it would have been gone forever—took it with her.
Today I met her on her route and she returned it to me. I tried to give her some cash as a thank you, but she wouldn’t accept it. Anyways, Loretta, you saved the day! Thank you!
Caitlyn
Taking Muni Fare Collection Into His Own Hands on the 49 05.18.10
Photo by Flickr user applez
This happened on my way back home from the Mission division of Muni Diaries headquarters last week on the 49. I boarded the bus around 10:30 p.m. after hashing out our new design with Jeff and our web designer. I hopped onto the half-full bus with a very distracted mind. Two stops later a young guy boarded the bus, talking loudly as he made his way down the aisle. I was sitting facing the back of the bus so I couldn’t see what was happening behind me, but I could tell by the faces of the passengers on the back of the bus that something was not right. I turned around and saw that the young guy was walking toward the back of the bus, swinging his arms wildly and talking about fare evasion to no one in particular.
“Did you pay your fare? I bet you didn’t pay…” He seemed to be under the illusion that he’s a fare inspector or unofficial keeper of the Muni law. (more…)
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.
Photographer Kristen Holden: Love Stories on Muni 04.26.10
Photographer, poet, and model Kristen Holden‘s pictures of Muni riders have caught our eye for a while. We found her on Flickr as “SFLoveStory” and tracked her down to find out what makes Muni such a great subject. Holden grew up in Chicago and has lived in San Francisco for almost seven years. She lives in Russian Hill with her musician boyfriend and their “talentless dog.”
What is it about Muni that inspires you to take photos there?
This simple answer is: I ride a lot and I shoot my surroundings more than I do anything else. But what makes Muni rife for photographic capture is that the exterior environment is always changing around the same structure or, like, bones of the scene. There are endless characters to make up stories about.
What’s it like taking pictures on Muni?
I think people generally assume I’m a tourist. Once in a while someone will ask me about my camera and why I shoot film (I’m currently shooting with a second-hand Canon EOS Elan II SLR with a Canon 50mm f/1.8 lens.)
Got a favorite Muni line?
I ride the 45 and 30 to get from Russian Hill, where I live, to downtown and vice versa. I take the 47 and 49 quite a bit. Oh, and I’m one of those weird people who actually rides the 19…it gets the closest to the film-processing center I go to in SoMa. I love the cable cars and streetcars too. The mint-green colored streetcar from Brooklyn (Car 1059?) is my favorite.
You can see more of Holden’s photographs on her website, Kristen-Holden.com.
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?
Balloon Circus on the 49 01.29.10
A couple of days ago I posted about weird cargo on Muni, and Muni Diaries readers don’t disappoint! Commenters reported seeing a bed (headboard included), 8′ weather stripping, a sitar, and a walnut veneer speaker.
Today we received a short video clip from rider Mathieu, who spotted a lady carrying a whole zoo of balloon animals on the 49. Wonder where she’s going…
Thanks, Mathieu!
Got photos or videos of strange cargo or other happenings on the bus? You know where to send 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.
The 49 From Hell 12.21.09
Having put in a good 6-mile walk the day before, I decided I would take it easy today. Ha! What should have been a leisurely jaunt ended up being a 5-mile forced march.
I decided I would take a trip down memory lane and go down to Fisherman’s Wharf and the place where, in 1971, I worked as a teenager — Cost Plus Imports.
After checking the bus schedule, I decided to take the 22 to Mission and 16th and then catch a 49-Van Ness. The 49 runs every 10 minutes, so the wait would be short.
I got to 16th and Mission without incident.
I waited as 10 minutes went by and no 49 bus. Then 15 minutes, then 20. By now, an obviously impatient crowd was gathering and constantly looking down the street for the 49. One woman tried hailing a cab with no results and then got back up on the curb and started her wait again.
Elvis, seen above, seemed to be taunting me as I impatiently waited for the 49 to arrive.
While waiting I had the pleasure of being harangued by some crazy woman who accused me of being a cop and there was a constant parade of the unwashed masses going by the bus stop. I had never had the pleasure of waiting for a half hour at a Mission and 16th bus stop before. What fun!
Finally, the 49 came and it was already packed. We crammed our way into the smelly, stifling sardine can of humanity and all clung on for dear life as the bus lurched back into traffic. I was flanked by a woman holding her nose, a guy on a scooter in the handicapped slot, and some poor slob who was trying to manage a large heavy box on his shoulders while trying to hold on.
Meanwhile, some lunatic was hurling disparaging remarks punctuated with expletives at the bus driver while a woman next to him gave him crap about it. With each stop it got worse as more and more people jammed themselves onto the bus. By now it was like a sweat bath. Yummy.
Finally, the driver stopped taking more passengers (there was another 49 bus just a block behind us). At Geary Street half the bus emptied out and I got to sit down for the remaining four blocks of the ride. I got off at California with a great sigh of relief and relished the cool breeze. What a ride. Thank god I don’t have to endure this on regular basis like many of these hapless souls. Jeezus…
Excerpted from Epic Road Trips.
