Contest: Your Best Muni Line Review, Performed by Anna Conda!
Four more winners will get $50 each for your witty reviews!
The one-and-only Anna Conda will read/perform your review on stage at the Muni Diaries Reunion/Open Mic! Anna will help us choose the winning review, so go over to Google Places and let it all hang out. Use the hashtag #munidiaries to let us know you want your review considered for the contest.
What: Muni Review Contest on Google Places
Where: Muni Google Places
How: Write your wittiest review of a Muni line, using #munidiaries to enter the contest
Prize: $100 to Hog and Rocks and see your review performed on stage! Four more winners will receive $50 each. So get to it — we want to give you cash, oysters, or pork, or all of the above!
M is for madness in the making! Waiting for M train is in itself an adventure, something I embark upon just about daily. Then, the madness begins just as the doors close and you suddenly have the inner voice inside of your head telling you, “this might be the last day of your life, just like yesterday, but someday you will not be so lucky.”
The type of madness that is happening is dependent on which direction you are traveling, in-bound or outbound. The outbound ride is definitely colorful, at least once you do make it onto a train, which can take up to an hour at times. It seems as though MUNI likes to run less M trains than any other train. At rush hour it really seems to be chaotic to make it on an M train, being that MUNI has about a train every 20 minutes on average it is seeming to be right now. So, take a book, take a camera, definitely take notes of what is going on around you.
But, let’s get down to the nitty gritty of a good M ride entails, because I know that is what you are here to read. You will be packed into the train car like sardines from Embarcadero to the Castro and sometimes that continues all the way to SF State just depending on the time and day.
Add to the crowded trains the possible interactions, most likely almost all of them will happen on a single train ride, as follows:
Prepare to be shunned by the disapproving old asian ladies who are best at giving dirty looks to anyone for any reason. They are in high abundance on a Wednesday when the church is giving out free groceries.
The thugs and thugistas will be cussing up a storm, starting fights with each other and other passengers, perhaps even being forced off the train because they decided to draw blood by breaking a nose of a guy on the train they did not want standing next to them.
The SF State students will be reminiscing about high school, talking about their parties in the dorms and how high they were or “so drunk”, studying with books sprawled out all over the place, making out with their new boyfriend or girlfriend of the week right in your face, girls will wear some of funkiest clothes and mostly not enough clothes at all (to the point where you wonder if those are shorts or underwear and you will know they are not wearing underwear under their skirt).
The drivers of the M love to speed across 19th Ave. so be prepared for that, you will actually need to HANG ON and you will also need to look out for traffic as you exit the train due to traffic never paying attention to the stopped train and flying around to pass the train as you exit.
If you are going to Balboa Park BART you should be aware there will be more graffiti art, more crazy people talking to themselves or to each other about their new found path in Christianity and they are on their way to the church next to the park where more drugs are sold than kids are play. About once a week without notice the train will not go the entire route to the BART station, it will be stopping at Plymouth and Broad instead, leaving you to walk or wait 10 minutes for the next train. There is a guy who rides the train from the BART to Broad and he talks into his I-Pod like he is a spy, but I really think he is schizophrenic, I guess he could be vice considering where he seems to be living, amongst crackheads and skeezers.
M is for madness and more money than it’s worth, mostly madness though.
Thanks, Deseray. Can you please post this review to the Muni Google Places page. Thanks!
Posted on Google Places, but since it is on the wire time-wise and other stuff. . .
I’m totally being ironic, Muni. Like really you get no stars. Those are 5 stars of sarcasm. Yes, tough love time, you are that awful. What have you ever done to me you ask? Typical, you never noticed me in geometry class either unless it was to copy my test answers. By the way, you f’n racist, just because I’m Indian didn’t automatically make me good at math. Having your wrestling team boyfriend beat me up, because you got a D was bullshit! He had a hard-on the whole time, too, and his dick was the size of a slip-on pencil eraser (probably from the ‘roids; just gross)! You are completely oblivious to those around you. I know, I know, it’s not your fault. I’m underfunded you whine. I try to help people, but they only take advantage of me. Well, when you spread your doors for anyone and you are bound to pick up a rash or two. Even a short bus knows that. I’m sick and too weak to handle my addictions, you persist. No argument there, but I manage to snort white diamonds, drink whiskey, and sleep around and I still do my job at a slightly above average level. I’m mean do you even try to get anyone to work on time anymore. Seriously, I’m on the 22 and halfway to the end of the line you stop the bus and kick everyone off to wait for another bus that will now has twice the number of assholes on it. And you want to know why people think you smell, so bad. It’s because you cram the bus with so much ball sweat and ass crack funk and can’t even crack open a window. And your friends, come on! They are as bad or, astoundingly, even worse than you are. You don’t even make half of them pay to get on and then they hangout all day picking at their scabs, complaining about their gout, spitting seed husks on the ground, staring at me with one milky, blue eyeball like they are going to rape me, because I have teeth and tuck in my shirt. It’s called self-care and I learned it once I turned my life over to a higher power. Those Muni cops on your payroll are a real prize bunch. Once they made me get out of a senior seat at the front of the bus referring to the sign posted that the seats must be made available for seniors or those with disabilities. There were maybe five people on the entire bus. I pointed out that syntactically that the sign reads “must BE MADE available” not “must BE available”, but then I saw his tiny dick get hard and I realized it was your high-school boyfriend again. Nice to see you have grown emotionally and surround yourself with good people. The way you treat your elders is terrible. Some lines are like a Christian Science Hospice on wheels. However, the ones I really feel for are your children. Now I agree that variety is the spice of life, but you literally have all the colors of the rainbow stuffed back there and I don’t think you can tell who is whose baby daddy at this point. I’d tell you to switch to butt sex, but you can’t seem to open up your back door even with everyone shouting on the top of their lungs. These kids need continuity in there lives! And some structure and manners, too. You can’t make a bunch of rules and expect them to follow them without getting involved in their lives. Half of them are cursing up a storm, talking about their sex organs mingling, and the other half are singing along with Rick Ross playing off their cell phones. I can’t even think about ending my life in peace, because it is so loud. I would suggest finding a good social worker and actually spending sometime with your kids instead of driving them around and dropping them off on the next public institution that comes along. What are you snickering about public schools, you’re next. Look sister, life is suffering. A shamanic VW Van told me that, while we tripped on LSD in a sweat lodge in Jackson Hole, so believe it. But you have everything you need to turn your life around and people who care about you if you’d give them a chance. That’s why your mother and some of your relatives and the pastor from Glide Memorial are here riding the 33 with me. They think you are worth saving and your mama was always kind to me, so who am I to say? Try not to f it up this time, ok?