Your place to share stories on and off the bus.
Rider Chris sent in this photo diary. I want my bacon!
I took this photo in the Colma BART bathroom and was very confused. If I hadn’t stopped eating meat, I probably would have asked the station agent where my bacon was. I got home and randomly found this online, then it all made sense.
(More photos and the awesome F car operator after the jump)
Photo by sflovestory from the Muni Photos Flickr group
There’s something really brilliant about this photo. I dunno. I just really, really like it. It speaks to the softer side of Muni. Muni, you know — that system of buses and LRVs that, ultimately, gets us where we’re going sometimes. It’s also where a lot of us bump into one another. Where a representative sample of San Franciscans meet, to board, de-board, ride quietly or loudly, legally or illegally.
Okay, who slipped estrogen into my lunch?
In all seriousness, back to Weekend Photo Diary tradition with a comment on this weekend’s SF weather. In a word: Shitty with a chance of suck-ass. Wow, forecasters got that one really, really wrong. Should we even bother with the weather anymore? I mean, srsly yall!
Have fun, stay dry (or wet, if that’s your thing), and send us your photos and stories!
xoxo
Muni Diaries
Rider Michael’s trip away from San Francisco lead him to the Highway 17 Express and a ride that was much longer than a typical Muni ride, on a road that’s far from ideal compared with our city streets.
Friday, I decided to take the afternoon off and head over to Santa Cruz. I had already taken Caltrain to Santa Clara County for some morning business and figured I’d just catch the Highway 17 Express from downtown San Jose. The next bus that I could make left at 12:40 and so I booked a 2:30 appointment figuring I’d have plenty of time.
All was well until we neared Los Gatos and traffic came to a dead stop. A little past the Highway 9 offramp, an overhead sign warned of an accident before the summit with “lanes blocked.” Well, there are only two lanes, so if “lanes” are blocked, we are probably in trouble. We crept along until the driver announced that we would be turning around at Bear Creek so we could go back and take Highway 9.
After a brief hiatus (we gave her the week off for Riders With Drinks), Tiffany Maleshefski, aka Muni Mind Reader, is back. This week, she peers inside the synapses of that odd creature who, often no matter how soon their stop is, refuses to scoot over to the window seat.
Yes, I understand it’s a little odd. You’d think that the opportunity to have a view, fresh air, and to have a place to lean your head when you’re sleepy would be an ideal situation for riding the bus. But, I just can’t do it, OK? I can’t sit in the seat near the window.
So regardless of how crowded it might get … no matter how much hate-beams you direct my way, I am NOT going to move over. I’m just not. EVER. Deal with it!
I realize it would be a perfectly easy enough task. I’d slide over so no one had to make a big scene fumbling over legs and knees and worrying about your bags sliding off your shoulder and hitting people in the face. But what you’re forgetting is what happens when you sit down and I am getting off at a stop that’s before yours. Then what do we do? Are you just going to get up and let me out?
Sure, I’ve seen this sort of consideration played out. But sometimes it just doesn’t happen. I sat near the window once. Just once. It was my stop, I had waited a little bit longer than usual to prepare my exit at the next stop. Before I knew it, the doors had opened and people were filing out and I was STILL at the window, collecting my bags, and the person in the aisle seat didn’t even realize what was happening. I nearly knocked them over as they stood up to let me through, and THEN … the BACK DOORS CLOSED! I had to yell, “Back door! Back door!” Eventually, the doors opened again and I was able to exit. But from that day forward, I swore, may God strike me dead, that I would NEVER stay from the aisle seat. Ever. God, I still have nightmares about that shit.
So, no matter what. Even if it’s a bus with standing-room only.
I don’t have time to keep up with my blog, but I love this one and wanted to share some of my previous stories with you all……….
So far you’ve heard 2 tales from the 38 & the 49 lines. This one comes from the 47 which takes me from my gym in the afternoons to the 38 Geary stop to go home. When I ride I usually put on my “muni face” and act like I’m not paying attention to anyone. However, I’m completely alert to all of the excitement going on around me.
This one particular day I was riding along and we came to the stop at Union St. I heard someone outside yelling “Fuck you!” continuously and looked out to see that he was in line to get on the bus. Oh excellent, a live one! The angry man (we shall call him Oompa) was a tall, slender guy in his mid to late 40s. He didn’t appear to be “dirty fingernail homeless” because he didn’t have that look. His clothes were clean and he had longer sort of Oompa Loompa hair and was clearly an angry drunk. I also noticed that he was wearing a wedding ring (irrelevant). So Oompa followed this younger Irish looking guy onto the bus (we shall call him Ginger). I think Oompa “took a hatin” to Ginger because he got right up in his face and continued to yell “Fuck You!” at him. Poor Ginger was trying to ignore him, but it was obvious that Oompa made him slightly nervous. Then Oompa starts whistling really badly into Ginger’s ear. In the middle of his tune he shouts to the entire bus that he’s “fucking crazy and not to fuck with him” and then goes back to whistling at Ginger. The bus was full but everyone was watching this fascinating Ginger-Oompa Show and secretly hoping that Ginger would pull a tazer out of his pocket or something.
Photo by Flickr user nuzz
It was pretty interesting when I was taking the 49 home from the Mission the other day. There was this kid playing the Tenor. Then, this guy gets on the bus at 24th with a guitar, and soon notices the teenager playing the tenor. He looks, and the guy who is playing the tenor smiles. They chat, although there’s a language barrier between them, one who speaks little English (the one with the guitar) and the one who speaks no Spanish (the one who has the tenor).
They talk a little, and they play a mini duet by the time we get to 16th. Some lady eating a Fruit & Yogurt Parfait watches them play, as well as some other people on the bus.
The guy with the guitar gets off at Sutter with his other pal sitting opposite to him, opposite of the back door where the kid was playing. He gets off later. Don’t know where. Don’t care. But it’s interesting to see a teenager teaching someone to play and getting some fun out of it.
Send us your observations of poignancy on Muni, and anything else you feel like sharing.