The other day, Rob posted about people’s habit of clipping fingernails on Muni. Yeah. Gross, right?! Well, the other day I spotted an attractive, athletic man flossing his teeth on Muni! But here’s the kicker, when he was done flossing, he single-handedly rolled the thread in a little ball, extended his arm out, and released it onto the floor. What’s next? No, please don’t answer that.
It was Friday night and I was trying to get myself from my quiet neighborhood to a hoppin’ joint in SOMA. But being that I am not the kind of girl with the cash money to cab around town (hence this blog), I waited for the 47 in our freezing cold July weather. Minutes turned into half an hour (as usual), so I decided to start walking down Van Ness, you know, to get a little exercise and see where the bus would catch up with me.
I walked and walked and of course, by now you can guess, the 47 is nowhere to be found. As I approached a red light at Van Ness and Geary, a nice silver Jetta rolls up and stops right in front of me. I noticed that the car is packed with four young men dressed in button-down shirts and fancy jeans — the typical outfit one might say is the douchebag uniform here.
One wonders whether the Chron’s C.W. Nevius has been reading Tara’s posts on Muni Diaries:
The streetcars, sometimes called “museums in motion,” have committed the cardinal sin of public transportation: They have become too popular.
For example, Monday afternoon at Fisherman’s Wharf, around 2:30, I climbed on car No. 1053, a green and silver model that ran in Philadelphia in the 1940s. It was pretty full when I got on, but at the next stop – right at Pier 39 – hordes of tourists clambered aboard. After several calls to get people to move to the back of the bus, the driver announced that we were now aboard “an express to the Ferry Building.” Sure enough, we shot past passengers waiting at subsequent stops as if they were invisible.
The link also includes another link to an article about a F-line streetcar collision Monday that injured 14 people. Ouch!
— Beth W.
Beth is an author and journalist who is not at all ready to break up with the F-Market line, but only because she rides it less than once a week. She already has messy relationships with the 22, 38 and 5.
He is not technically one of the crazies, but his unusual habit of starting up conversations and engaging with strangers renders him an acutely annoying oddball. He is a middle-aged man, soft around the edges, always in dorky business casual. He often baits everyone with something banal like, “Man, it’s sure crowded today.” And should anyone respond, next thing you know he is asking them about where they are from and trying to connect with San Francisco trivia. One innocent couple held the door for him and the next 10 minutes were a barrage of T.M.I. snippets of his life. Doesn’t he get it? Morning commute is not a time to be chipper and chatty. The coffee may not have kicked in yet, and it takes zen power to survive the ride.
He is a tall and slender man, age between 50 and 60. His long white hair is combed straight back and if memory serves me right, he has a trimmed beard and a penchant toward leather vests. The funny thing about this guy is that he is totally homophobic, but chooses to get on at Church and Market, only to stare angrily at a targeted passenger. Oh yes, he usually picks one person to target, while he speaks loudly for everyone to hear. His usual tactics are to stand really close, stare and make loud pronouncements like: “sinner,” “shame on you,” or, “homosexually is a sin.”
The other thing about this guy is that he is really big into manners. If you bump into him and he doesn’t hear you say excuse me, the entire train will be blessed with an angry and loud tirade about manners and the occasional “homelessness is not a crime.” He will stare at the person who bumped into him even if they manage to stand far away, and he will shout with a murderous look on his face. The whole thing is really unpleasant and I’m not really sure why people tolerate it. I guess verbal abuse just comes with the territory.
Some mornings I treat myself to a pastry and a coffee on the go. The trains start to get really full around 8 am, and the later you get on, the less chance you have to hop on board, so saving time is key. Even if you’re not eager to get to work, standing on a crowded platform, as train after train goes by, isn’t much fun.
On this particular morning, the sun was shining brightly and since I was late, I picked up a chocolate croissant and a coffee on the way to the Church and Market station. When I got there I heard the train coming so I bolted, running down the stairs just in time to squeeze myself in. I couldn’t believe my luck to have made it in and that it was a T-train, which would take me all the way to work, without me having to wait at Embarcadero.
This train was super crowded and people sighed. I wasn’t the only one who squeezed in last minute and everyone was annoyed. Then, this booming man standing next to me looked down and upon seeing the chocolate croissant and coffee which I clutched tightly close to me, he announced with a loud and angry voice: “You have food. That is not allowed. Get off this train right now!”
Shocking. It’s not like I had a bag of Burger King breakfast. My coffee was sealed, my pastry in a paper bag. And I’m a skinny person who doesn’t take much room (unlike my friend here). If I had not been so happy to have made it into this train against all odds, I might have let him get to me. But in a rare display of quick thinking on my part, I just calmly responded that I would just put them away, placing the chocolate croissant in my bag and securing the coffee snugly on the side.
As the train moved on, I couldn’t help be aware of this angry and mean garrison. By the time we got to Embarcadero the train was empty enough for those remaining to get a seat. Mr Big Vigilante sat down giving me a dirty a look. And that was it for me. I sat across the isle from him. I slowly pulled my coffee out of my purse, unrolled the paper bag that concealed my golden, perfectly flaky chocolate croissant, and took a mouth-watering bite. What was he going to do now? Throw me off the train? As I sipped my coffee, I couldn’t help breaking into a smile: “hmmm, so good!” I had a nice ride from the Embarcadero to the Second and King stop, the coffee kicked in and the sun was still shinning. I wonder how Mr Big Vigilante feels about the Peet’s now located inside Montgomery and the Embarcadero station? He could use a little coffee himself.