But when NextBus actually works …
Ouch! Still sore well into this afternoon after that sprint to catch the 5-Fulton last night. We left a house on Oak after discovering from NextBus that we had nine minutes. We put our shoes and jackets on, rounded up the dog, and bailed at a brisk pace.
By the time we got to Grove Street, I randomly decided to check the iPhone. 1 Minute, NextBus said. Pause. OH SHIT! I started running, while Tara and the dog did their best to trot up the hill. By the time I got to Fulton, I saw the bus, our bus, approaching. I made it to the correct side of the street just in time.
When the doors opened, panting, I asked the driver to please wait just a few seconds for my girlfriend and dog. Boy, did he looked pissed. Fine. I did the whole one-foot-on, one-foot-off trick, and waited approximately eight seconds for the girls to catch up to me.
Thing is, it was almost 11 p.m., which, as we soon discovered, was time for this bus to barrel down Fulton toward the ocean at break-neck speed, as if there were no cross-streets or traffic signals. I didn’t lean over to check to speedometer, but he must’ve clocked 40 shortly after we passed Stanyan.
If we had waited around our friends’ house a minute longer, we would’ve had to wait 40 minutes. So sore legs, dirty looks, and the fastest Muni ride ever are the price we pay for getting home at a decent time.
The moral here (perhaps): Don’t be so dismissive about NextBus. That, and do your best to stay in shape.
Jeff really wants technology to work, almost as much as he wants Muni to work.