Author: Tara

Tara Ramroop has laughed, cried, and commiserated with this amazing community from the start. She's been writing for as long as she can remember and riding Muni for more than a decade.

SF Welcomes Me Home … Clipper, Not So Much

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Inside a Translink/Clipper card
Photo by 0x0000org

When we returned from our honeymoon, everything in my purse that wasn’t a foreign ticket stub or Euro coin looked funny. That includes my work badge, our woefully monochrome U.S. currency, and my Clipper card. Even though it also got to enjoy a three-week break, it completely failed me on my first commute to work, indicating that, 1) Vacation Brain is contagious and will rub off on your possessions, or 2) a bunch of things conspired to go pretty effing wrong. So, here’s my cautionary tale, should you find yourself in a similar sitch.

1. Tara exits turnstiles at 24th and Mission BART station after a sleepy ride back from SFO. Clipper cash balance falls below threshold; Autoload triggered, just as it should.

2. On first commute back to work two days later, BART turnstiles say “see agent.” Agent shows, on his little machine thingie, a message that says, “BAD DEBT” (all caps, very scary). A customer-service call is in order. BART ticket must be purchased. (I am Tara’s boiling fit of not-really-contained public rage.)

3. Clipper Rep #1 says there’s nothing wrong with the account. Maybe the card itself is broken, she suggests? Add Fare machines couldn’t read it, so this seemed likely. (How much will it cost me if I don’t get a new card right away? Will I get a refund? I am Tara’s frustrated, tearful self-pity.)

4. Tara calls Clipper back to say, yes, something must be wrong with the card. Clipper Rep #2 checks into it further, and, at some point, mentions the last four digits of the credit card on file. This is an old card that does not exist! Ah: Clipper Rep #2 says this is why I have “bad debt,” triggered by the Autoload a couple days ago. But! It was updated! (Right? Hmm…)

5. Tara learns that she did, in fact, update her information in July. Tip: Always ALWAYS keep confirmation emails from Clipper when you update information; they contain reference numbers that should help if/when they don’t know what you’re talking about. She makes third call to Clipper that morning. (I am Tara’s violently flashing incompetency-radar.)

6. Clipper Rep #3 has no idea what Tara is talking about with this “bad debt” and “card not working” business. Everything looks fine, just as it did to Clipper Rep #1. No, no. Something is wrong. Look harder. Tara eventually gets the equivalent of, “Oh, there it is.” Info was updated correctly by the user, but it failed to be processed by Clipper.

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Category: diaries, reflection

Rejected by Muni. Twice

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Photo by shandopics

This diary teeters on the edge between tragic and comic. This driver is Tara’s Newman. The Muni system in the far northeast corner of San Francisco is her white whale. Read on …

I work really near the start of the 47-Van Ness and use it all the time. After a Yelling Lady incident on Tuesday, I wonder if the line is slipping into full-on, always-dysfunctional territory.

Thursday after work, I saw the 47 idling at a red light before turning left at the corner of Beach and Powell. Great: I’m a few steps from the route’s origin, and the light’s still totally red. Surely, if I knock on the door (the bus was technically still touching its stop), I’ll be let on with plenty of time for everyone to be on schedule.

Nope.

The driver acknowledged my knock with a step-back motion, confusing me a bit, then continued to sit there for a few seconds until the light turned green.

And then she left.

I’ve booked it to the second stop before with good results (knowing that the bus has two more lefts to make before it gets there), so I indignantly jogged as best I could with a full gym bag, a yoga mat, and a purse. I was the horse and this bus was my carrot. Surprisingly, I made it to the outside back of the bus at that second stop. A guy stood on the stairs for a second before boarding, then I watched the doors close and the bus roll along.

There is no goddamn way she didn’t see me the second time, which made it even worse. I fumed via voicemail at the stop; yeah, I was that girl screaming obscenities into a phone while toting a peppy pink yoga mat. Welcome, tourists!

It got me thinking of what a driver once said to late arrivals; you can either get on the bus as it leaves a stop, or you can have the bus stay on schedule, but you can’t have both. Is it really one or the other? I’d hope it would be more case-by-case than that, personally.

Tara is saddened, almost to the point of tears on some days, that her only transit options away from Fisherman’s Wharf elude her so regularly.

Category: diaries Tags:

Freestylin’ 49, Part 2

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Muni Graveyard
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.

Category: diaries, WTF: Weirdness on Muni Tags: ,

My Love Affair With San Francisco Cable Cars

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Image by Omar Lee

Ed. note: To read this story with a prettier layout, please visit it on The Bold Italic. BTW, pure coincidence, but this guy, featured a few weeks ago here on Muni Diaries, makes an appearance in this story (his name is Freeman).

I was born and bred in the Bay Area, which means I grew up ignoring San Francisco’s cable cars. I don’t even remember my first and only time on the trolley. Even though riding the carousel at Pier 39 is an indelible childhood memory, the cable car is not. That’s right: Pier 39 trumps the cable car for as long as I can remember. Ouch.

And I’m not the only local who feels this way. We can rattle off bus lines, poppin’ neighborhoods, and new restaurants and bars in the blink of an eye. But ask us where the Powell-Hyde cable car goes, exactly, and you’re likely to get a blank stare and a raised eyebrow in response. We’ll ride the cable cars when friends or family visit, sure. But it doesn’t stop us from dramatically sighing and complaining for weeks about the northeast part of town.

It’s sad, really. But admittedly, there are some very good reasons for this. Cable cars are limited in where they go and also in the diversity of its riders. They’re arguably kitschy, something urban people hate unless it comes with a heaping dose of irony. The cars’ relative slowness could shame even the pokiest crosstown bus line and, to add insult to injury, it’s $5 a pop if you don’t have a pass.

But that doesn’t have to be the case. I took my first memorable ride in 2008, the first year I had my own Fast Pass and therefore got “free” rides on the world’s only operating cable car system. I rode one because, well, why not?

Immediately, I was hooked, but no one else seemed to understand. These charming transit vehicles are too good for tourists’ use only. This story is my attempt to shed some light on the most misunderstood of SF icons, the trolley.

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Category: diaries Tags:

Freestylin’ 49

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MUNI to City Center
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.

Category: diaries, WTF: Weirdness on Muni Tags: ,

Mister Muni Manners

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see
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?

Category: diaries, Funny: Muni LOLs, reflection Tags: ,
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