Category: Story Archive

Poo-flinging at 16th St. Mission BART

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celloI was heading home Friday afternoon from a very fruitful jaunt to Thrift Town. I entered the 16th St. Mission BART station, and was delighted to discover a good-looking guy playing some kind of rock music solo on his cello. I’m a sucker for rock cello, so I leaned against a wall near him to listen.

That, unfortunately, is when I spotted the guy who had wedged himself between the trashcan and the support column in the breezeway. He was dressed in jeans and a rain poncho, and his hands were deep in his jeans. I don’t mean in his jeans pocket; I mean in his jeans.

Next to me, one of the emergency doors opened and a janitor stepped through with a mop and bucket full of soapy water.

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Category: Story Archive, WTF: Weirdness on Muni

(Update) Dinner break for all 49 operators?

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Update: KRON-4 has the latest on what may be the cause of the transit snarl, a suspicious package left at the Chinese Consulate near Japantown. Tara got a cab, and her cabbie was told to avoid Geary at all costs.

Original post: Yeah, it’s Friday. It’s felt like a longer week than normal for a lot of us.

But you knew the positivity couldn’t last, didn’t you?

So what, exactly, explains this, eh, Muni?

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Tara snapped that out at Van Ness and North Point a few minutes ago. She called to tell me about it, so I decided to check NextBus and see what it had to say. At my stop, 20th and Mission, the 49s heading north to North Point and Van Ness are scheduled as follows:

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And Tara just called back to say that her signs read: 14 minutes and 16 minutes, followed by an Arriving, with no bus in sight.

I’ve heard of FAIL, and I’ve heard of Muni FAIL, but this exceeds all expectations of fucked-upitude.

Perhaps Muni and NextBus should look into having the signs read “Buses are broken, look for alternatives now.”

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Chest-puffing assholes on the 49

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OK, Roguish Passengers on the 49. We need to talk.

Just when I was having polite, inane conversation with the slightly off-kilter woman next to me, you two up the ante and start bickering like kids in a sandbox. After she fled from the bus like it was on fire (thanks to you two), all I had left to do was watch you assholes fight over who stole whose shovel from the pail.

All I can gather is that Roguish Passenger 1 touched RP2 wrong. RP1 kept insisting he didn’t mean to, but for some reason, chests were puffed, voices were raised and everyone in the back of the pee-pee smelling bus (evening commute bonus!) looked around hopelessly for a flak jacket.

Props to the big guy with a briefcase who suggested the homies (his word, not mine) calm their asses down and stop starting shit. You’re far braver than I, Briefcase Man.

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Outside Lands/Muni History Lesson

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You never know what you’re gonna learn when you take a leisurely walk in San Francisco.

Tara and I headed out to the ocean from 28th Avenue and Balboa the other day. We took Balboa, but decided to walk back up Cabrillo to see what was in a mixed-use development neither of us knew about. As we approached La Playa, we noticed some large signs behind a group of trees, topped by clown faces. Once we overcame our indignation that clown imagery would be so wantonly employed in public, we decided to inspect. It turns out the signs serve as a marker, a written history of Playland, which used to exist at that spot. That part we already knew. What we didn’t realize was the extensive street car and steam bus circuits that served the amusement park back in the day.

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