Muni Diaries Anniversary Favorite: Don’t piss off the Pregnant Lady

Tara’s favorite diary got quite a response in the comments. We’re not taking sides, of course, and we do love a spirited debate about bus behavior: “I actually really like the pregnant-lady-trips-girl for a few reasons. It (along with a lot of our ‘what should you do in this situation?’ kind of Seinfeldian posts) generated a lot of debate on what we as non-pregnant, non-disabled people have the responsibility to do on public transit. Also, it’s just plain hilarious to picture a pregnant lady shifting from passive-aggressive to aggressive-aggressive because of some kid.” Visit the site tomorrow to read Jenny’s favorite diary as we wind down toward our first birthday Friday.

Tripping Hazard

Don’t piss off the pregnant lady (originally posted February 19, 2009)

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Pregnancy is making me mean

Today the muni was crowded. I had to wait forever for the L. I had the smarts to take whatever train to West P. and then wait for the L so most of the train ride wasn’t so bad. However, when I got on the L it was super crowded. I unbuttoned my jacket, stuck my pregnant belly out as far as I could and no one gave me a seat. In fact, most of the other Sunset residents on the train closed their eyes and pretended I wasn’t there.

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Good morning, here’s my crotch

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As Muni Diaries has documented before, sometimes people pull out their penises and stick them in your face on the bus. OK, that just happened once (as far as we know), in one of our most popular penis-in-public posts yet.

Perhaps more often, there are more tame crotchal offenses, including crotch-on-the-shoulder guy.

As the Muni Ladies have noted before, you (well, all of us, really) must use proper crotch etiquette when you’re standing on the bus. So I don’t know who told this guy he could do theĀ  “Sugalumps” song from Flight of the Conchords during my morning commute, but it’s just across-the-board unacceptable.

It’s pretty self-explanatory. I was sitting on an aisle seat for about 40 minutes, and was occasionally treated to a shoulder bump with this guy’s crotch. It just happened a few times, and ultimately wasn’t a huge deal, but it’s a pretty huge offense of the aforementioned etiquette rule. I don’t care how tired you are (which he demonstrated by leaning both elbows and head on the top horizontal rail, letting the rest of his body flap around like a marionette); keep track of your body or you might get woken up very, very quickly with my elbow next time.

Photo by WHAT I’M SEEING from the Muni Photos Flickr pool

Visual Rapists, Thieves, and Prada

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So I’m riding the 6, heading outbound, up Haight Street when i hear this woman having a conversation. She’s young, well-dressed and wearing a pair of dark dark sunglasses. And at first she’s just talking to herself, quietly, saying things like, “I know who you are, I know who you are.” She’s repeating it over and over, rocking from side to side while doing so.

I notice peeps are starting to look around, trying to figure out who she’s talking to, maybe it’s them, maybe it’s herself, it’s tough to say because of those dark glasses. It’s then that the bus makes a stop at Divisadero and a few passengers get on. This guy in a blue button up and navy pants sits in the open seat next to the woman. I see everybody kind of look around at each other, knowing this guy just stepped on a land mine.

The bus driver closes the door and with one big jerk the bus chugs up the hill.

“I know who you are, I know who you are. ” The woman starts rocking again, but this time she turns the guy in the blue shirt and says, “Quit looking at me.” The guy looks puzzled. “What,” he says. “Quit looking at me, you think you know me? I know who you are, I know who you are,” she says.

Then the woman shifts in her seat and starts screaming at the top of her lungs, “Visual Rapist! Visual Rapist! Stop looking at me Visual Rapists!”

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