When SFChronicle_vault posted the pic above recently on Instagram, we thought it looked and felt familiar. It’s certainly imbued with nostalgia for decades past—and nostalgia for months past, if you count our wistfulness about safely gathering en masse, which San Francisco has always loved doing.
We dug into our own archive and were heartened to find photos from 2014 taken in very much the same spirit and similarly featuring Muni, which always snuck into our celebrations.
Remember how we won three World Series championships in five years? Don’t forget 2012, when one of the sturdier bus shelters of old kept the celebration going on what looks like Market Street.
Everything has changed and very little has changed. I know we’ll do it again someday.
We’re continuing to collect your stories about the interactions and experiences that make living in San Francisco what it is today. If you have a story to share, please email us at muni.diaries.sf@gmail.com And don’t forget to keep up with the tales by subscribing to the Muni Diaries podcast! You can submit your own photos and observations by tagging us @munidiaries on Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram.
Over on the Muni Diaries Twitter wire, readers tipped us to Michael’s late-night N-Judah Muni tale, which he captured in his Flickr account. Oh, how we miss the after hours “Temporary Autonomous Zone” on Muni, where you never know who you’ll meet or what will happen.
It was just after closing time at the bar, and two groups of skaters got on the bus along with a host of other characters. Somehow, different strangers on the bus offer our narrator drugs, booze, and a surprisingly thoughtful detail for both. Here’s Michael’s story:
Both of my preferred seats are occupied so I’m sitting in the last row + middle seat. There’s Junkie Guy to my left who is sitting in the corner seat and has turned the seat between us into his living room where all of his worldly possessions are spread out as he frantically rearranges his living space. A bunch of skaters in their 20s get on and sit in front of me and one of them starts playing a country western type song on his phone and they all start singing along to lyrics that are all about a love song to cocaine.
Junkie Guy instantly looks up and starts asking if any of the skaters have cocaine and they’re all, “No, it’s just a song.” Then they further explained that the guy singing on the phone does not have any cocaine to share either. Sorry, Junkie Guy, false alarm.
Then another group of skaters with a case of beer get on the back of the bus. They recognize the first group of skaters and start talking about their night. I get the impression that their paths crossed earlier in the day and now they are crossing again on the Night Owl on the way home.
I really like those moments where everyone’s story comes full circle and these different storylines converge, like the end of Dazed & Confused. I also like getting to know all of my neighbors that keep the same hours that I do but are part of different scenes.
Here we all are, the disco queens, the punk rockers, the junkies, the preppies, it’s the 2AM Breakfast Club. This is where we all End Up. All the people that did not feel like paying money to take an Uber home in a timely fashion, all on the crazy train headed off into The Sunset, all in the No Man’s Land Temporary Autonomous Zone / wretched hive of scum and villainy that is the back of the bus.
Sometimes when you see something that really speaks to you—you gotta have it. Rider David G. sent us the story of how he came to own a piece of honest-to-goodness Muni poetry, and we’re convinced it was meant to be. Here’s his story:
In the ’90s, the group Streetfare Journal and bus-advertising company TDI placed literary placards on Muni buses, streetcars, and cable cars. When visiting a friend’s apartment, I saw one of the posters. It featured a poem about fascist leaders and was written by the Serbian poet Aleksandar Ristovic. The last three lines read:
Time of fools is coming,
time of the know-nothing teacher
and the book that can’t be opened at either end.
I loved it and asked where she found it. Were they selling them?
She chuckled and described how she saw the poster while riding the 30-Stockton through the Marina. She was struck by the words and so she asked a random fellow rider to hold her coffee. Then she simply took it down — in a bus full of commuters no less. She said that people stared, but no one uttered a word. “If you’re nonchalant, no one will do anything,” she suggested.
Being less adventurous, I didn’t follow her advice. Of course, one day all the placards were removed.
I was living in a residence hotel and taking the California cable car to work. Months later on my morning commute, to my utter surprise I saw the Ristovic poster. They obviously missed this one. Unfortunately, there was no chance of stealing it: in the closed confines of a cable car, both Muni operators were nearby.
I resolved to go to the cable car barn that evening and see if I could ask someone for it. I believed it was my last chance.
Not knowing what to expect, I walked into the barn and was met with strong welding fumes. I gingerly stepped between rows of vehicles sitting on tracks. A middle-aged mechanic was on duty and he emerged from under the tracks. Nervously, I explained the situation: I’m looking for poetry.
He seemed surprised but he told me to “look around and take whatever you need,” and returned to his tools. My footsteps echoed as I explored the empty carriages. I finally found the poster and tucked it under my arm.
On the way out, I noticed the mechanic in street clothes and cleaning his work area. We nodded to each other as I departed. Not only did I walk out with the Ristovic poem; I also found one with a verse excerpt from Muriel Rukeyser.
Time comes into it.
Say it. Say it.
The universe is made of stories,
not of atoms.
Thank you, David, for submitting this story, especially in the midst of missing Muni—and all semblances of normal life—lots. Fun fact: For Muni’s centennial in 2012, we partnered with SFMTA for a “100 Days, 100 Muni stories” competition, where the most quotable winner earned placement on a placard just like these.
Since the universe is made of stories, we know there are many untold ones in our corner of the world. Indulge us with that tale that’s been burning a hole in your pocket by emailing muni.diaries.sf@gmail.com, or by connecting with us @munidiaries on all the socials.
Today is Muni Diaries’ 12th birthday! It seems like only yesterday it was born as a scrappy little blog. Today, it’s almost a teenager and has certainly developed that snarky veneer we all so appreciate in tweens. Watch out, world!
Even in these times of sheltering-in-place and newly reduced Muni service, your stories remind us that, just like on the bus, we’re all in it together.
By the numbers, we’ve held 23 live shows, tweeted more than 27K times about your hilarious commute, and counted more than 4,000 of you who told us your commute stories.
These are a few of our favorite tales over the years:
Private Muni ride. Way pre-rideshare apps. In retrospect, I wouldn’t compare this experience to finding the white whale of Moby Dick but that’s perhaps more about my growth as a writer than this particular story.
Muni humper; parts 1-3, only because it shows how strong our community is and adamant about calling out this gross bullshit.
Punk rock Johnny Cash; we continued to get hits on this post years after we first posted it, showing how much one person can make a difference in others’ lives.
The behind-the-scenes story, from artist Jeremy Fish himself, of the Silly Pink Bunny heist!
We couldn’t have done this without you, the story-submitters, the Muni riders, the San Franciscans who, for no other reason than to share experiences, contributes to this collective storybook. To the next 12—we really, truly, can’t wait to be riding Muni again once this is all over.
As always, we are here for your tales which you can submit by finding us as @munidiaries on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, or email us at muni.dairies.sf@gmail.com.
Photo of Alexandria Love at one of our many Muni Haiku Battles, taken by Right Angle Images.
@themarinabambino met his wife thanks to Muni. Recalling that fateful day(s), he says:
We met in August, 2011. It was her first day at a new job. I saw her on the 30X, she turned around and apologized because she was “probably going to fall on me.”
I saw her again the very next day (which…how does that even happen?) and we started chatting. I got her number on that day and the rest is history! We got married last August and had a 30x shaped cake at our wedding!
Like a scene right out of Richard Scarry’s Busytown, this incredible railroad model perfectly captures the F-Market as it goes past the Castro Theater. Look closely and you’ll see details on the F car, including its overhead wire power lines. The model is built by Muni rider Harvey Simon, whose son, Dave, posted about it on Instagram. This is what Harvey had to say about his project:
I’ve been involved in the model railroading since my teenage years, and when Dave and his wife, Jennifer, settled in Oakland I decided to build a working model of the F-line. My layout is about 2/3 finished—the Castro and downtown San Francisco sections—with the unfinished area what will eventually become Fisherman’s Wharf.
You’ll notice that the cars are models of the actual cars that serve passengers today on the F-line. I built the orange Milan, Italy car using parts I obtained from various suppliers, and was able to also include lights and sound in the car. Looking at the video, you’ll see how the car gets its power from the overhead wire, just like the real ones.
The hobby is wonderful, and provides a very rewarding creative outlet. I can’t imagine not having something like this to keep me busy during my retirement years. Hopefully I’ll be able to continue with it the next several years, provided my eyesight holds out!
Harvey Simon
If you’re also a fellow model railroad fan, you can read more about it in Simon’s article in the July 2018 issue of Model Railroader magazine. Thanks, Dave and Harvey, for pointing us to this delightful mini Muni world.
Our fall show is back next Saturday at Rickshaw Stop! Join us at Muni Diaries Live on Nov. 2 to celebrate (and commiserate) the strange and wonderful tales from our commute. Tickets are on sale now!
