A lot of gross stuff can happen on Muni, but we weren’t quite prepared for Muni rider Jean’s submission about a downhill-rolling 22:
Puke on the 22
Riding Muni blows chunks. Just like the girl behind me on the 22 that day. It was a few years ago and this girl who was sitting behind me started getting sick. She didn’t smell like booze, I think she was just having some kind of stomach thing.
Anyway, next thing I know, she puked on the floor of the bus. I heard this splattering noise and felt it splash on to the back of my shoes and my pants. OMG!!!! I tried not to freak out and calmly moved to the front of the bus, wishing more than anything that I could be off the bus and not wearing puke splattered clothes.
All was ok for about five minutes. That’s when the bus started going down a hill. The puke rapidly slid from the back of the bus to the front and everyone let out a collective groan of disgust/panic. That’s when I knew that ride was over.
Apologies if you lost your lunch a little just now. I know I did. So what’s a hygienic Muni rider to do? Dear Muni Manners ladies, got any tips for us to keep it clean and righteous on the bus?
Photo by Flickr user So Cal Metro
From Muni rider Blake:
So I’ve seen cans, tall boys, 40’s, and even handles of booze on the bus before… but you hafta hand it to this guy for really steppin’ up the game. Yes, that’s two kegs, and yes, this was at 7 a.m. this morning. God bless San Francisco.
UPDATE: This came in from Blake later in the day Thursday:
I would have followed him off had his terrible stench not deterred me! This occurred on the 43 — outbound this morning. He was just hanging casually in the back when I got on at California and Presidio. I snapped the pic, sat down and was promptly drawn into my book. A few stops down the line a nasty funk crept up my nostrils and almost pushed my Clif bar back out the wrong way. I looked up and watched him lumber towards me, and then out the door at Haight and Masonic. Looks like the bum/punks had a great day!
What did you see on Muni today? Send us your pics at email@example.com.
Coming home Wednesday on the 6, it was a typical evening rush-hour crowd. By about 6th St, everyone was squished together in the aisles. Luckily, having gotten on at 2nd, I had a precious seat near the back door.
At about 9th St, the bus driver yells, “Wheelchair coming on, clear the wheelchair seats!” and I’m proud to report that those people dutifully cleared the way as the man in the wheelchair carefully rolled his way down the aisle. Things were looking good; the wheelchair guy was joking around with some other passengers about the difficulty of parallel parking his chair into the space on the bus and no one seemed miffed to have been forced to stand on an already crowded bus.
The latest installment in Tiffany Maleshefski’s Muni Mind Reader series peers inside the mental machinations of the so-called tweaker. This is someone we’ve all seen on the bus or on the street and probably tried to ignore. But hey, they’re people too.
Hellloooo fellow bus passengers! Hello! Hi. Hi there. Is that a baby? Is this your baby? HI BABY!!! You like coffee, huh? I HATE YOU. Why is everyone looking at me? HEY DRIVER! IS THIS MY STOP? What is Gavin Newsom doing anyway? DRIVER! Give me my transfer. Yes, I paid you. OKAY FINE! I don’t know why everyone picks on me. Sigh.
Yes! I am the tweaker!
I go from low to high
And I’ll be tweakin’ till the day I die
I was just singing The Who. You know, The Who? Never mind.
This delightful tale is by Amy
Ok, so apparently it’s Gross on BART week, although I don’t remember seeing a press release. (Sorry, I didn’t snap any pictures).
On the way home yesterday, this guy with a beard and baseball cap was reading Playboy on BART. A group of middle-aged women, noticing this, got up quickly and scattered like he was contagious or something. One of them said, quite loudly, “I GUESS HE’S READING IT FOR THE ARTICLES.”
Bearded guy, clearly only slightly embarrassed, folded the magazine cover over and continued to look at it.
But what I saw this morning will stick with me for a month, at least.
I don’t know about you, but I can appreciate a certain level of honesty with some things, including breaking the law. Especially if you get caught. (“Ah. Yes, officer, I know how fast I was going. Very fast, indeed”.) By the same token, I also appreciate subtle, off-script ways of punishing people for doing so.
Fare jumpers often seem more nonchalant than anything else. They keep their heads down as they wrench those back doors open by their fingernails, and generally don’t say much or cause a ruckus while they’re trying not to get squished in the doorway.
This gal on a 10-Townsend one afternoon put them all to shame.