So the other day I got off at the Van Ness station and saw a woman frantically running between turnstiles. It looked like she was tapping her Clipper Card over and over again. She seemed very upset. It might have had something to do with the fact that she was trying to tap her paper transfer ticket from the bus…#thestruggle
It’d be pretty cool if you could tap your paper transfer, though.
p.s. Unrelated question: what is the appropriate usage of hashtags in non-tweet sentences or regular speech?
The San Francisco Police Department released this video of a bicyclist who attacked a Muni station agent. This happened at the Van Ness station when the agent told said bicyclist that he couldn’t take his bike on the train.
The assault happened Oct. 10 around 7:40 p.m. after the bicyclist tried to pass through the fare gates at the station with his bike, police said.
The station agent on duty, a 55-year-old man, told the bicyclist he could not bring his bike into the station, but the man ignored him, lifted his bike over the railing and jumped over the railing himself.
The station agent suffered serious injuries from blows to his head and has not been able to return to work, SFGate reports. The San Francisco Police Department website has two more closeup photos of the assailant from the surveillance video.
From the SFPD: Anyone with information is asked to contact S.F.P.D. Muni Task Force at (415) 832-8338 or the anonymous tip line at (415) 575-4444 or text-a-tip to TIP411, and begin the text with SFPD.
Tongue. LOTS of tongue. Tongue everywhere. . .Two 15-year-olds, clad in their Invisalign retainers and clear braces, were furiously making out. Both of their tongues were inches – no, mere centimeters, from my cheek – the moving, oblong, petri dishes of germs approaching my comfort threshold all too quickly. It was like I had walked into a slimy sea cucumber sword fight, and I could feel a panic attack rising.
Barf. Oh, but there’s more:
As Muni approached Van Ness station, I finally got some room to move. Yay! But, as I turned to move closer to the open door, I was stopped in my tracks by a homeless woman wearing a velour sweatshirt tied around her head. We made eye contact. She asked for a dollar. I said I didn’t have one. She had crazy eyes. I mumbled something inaudible while I shuffled toward the other end of the car. She held my gaze, and then laughed. Cackled, really. She pointed at me, and then cackled some more. I was creeped out, but also increasingly concerned that there was leftover guacamole on my face.
The train became packed again. My new crazy eyed friend found her way next to me on the crowded train and leaned right up against me, her entire back and hair completely superglued to my body. Awesome. Periodically, she would crane her neck around to look at me, sense my fear, and keep laughing to herself. I made awkward, pleading eyes with my fellow passengers in hopes that someone would help — not even the horndogs making out next to me batted an eye.
Wouldn’t you know it, she got to her stop in one piece. But before she bailed:
My new cackling, crazy-eyed friend turned around, pointed and laughed at me one more time, and then gave me a massive bear hug right before I elbowed my way off the bus.
And that was Tuesday.
The moral of this story: keep your arms, backs, hair, and tongues to yourselves — unless you ask first and get the OK, which is entirely possible on Muni. In that case, keep the aforementioned items on your partner and away from your neighbors.
Kyle and his friend, whose evening was saved by some very nice people.
On a Sunday evening my date and I were headed to the Van Ness station from the Mission via the J after spending some time in Dolores Park. The train came on time and the ride was as smooth as you can hope for from a Muni ride.
We arrived at Van Ness station and offboarded onto the platform. We had just barely climbed the top of the stairs to the mezzanine level when my date exclaimed “Oh God! My purse!” She had left her purse on the train.
Surely her cash and belongings were now lost in the clutches of the city forever, to be divvied up and forgotten about. I quickly made my way to the station operator booth and told the operator, “She left her purse on the last inbound J train!”
The operator quickly picked up his phone and called the train, told them the situation, nodded his head and put down the receiver. “They have it, wait downstairs on the outbound platform and look for train 1502, should be here in 20 or so minutes, happy holidays!” he said with a warm smile.
We thanked him and made our way to the platform to wait. When train 1502 rolled in, I entered the front car and was greeted by a friendly operator who was laughing and telling us how lucky we were and wishing us well.
It was all a pleasant and smooth experience, the kind you don’t usually expect from a Muni ride, especially when you are starting with a bad situation. I wrote a compliment on the SFMTA website for all the operators involved in the ordeal. Happy Holidays and wish you all the same fortunes on your commute.
Or at least let’s hope we can turn a small misfortune around like Kyle did. Hey, what’s your Muni diary today?
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)!