A Muni Diaries First: A Song for the 38-Geary

San Francisco musician Shane Papatolicas shares a song about a ride on Muni, specifically along the famed 38-Geary line.

Sometimes on the 38

We haven’t had the good fortune to see him perform yet, but here’s an excerpt of a review of Papatolicas at San Fran Voice:

Shane simplifies his feelings: “Sometimes I read the paper and I get depressed. Sometimes I stand and stare at the ground”. Either way, whether waxing poetic or putting it plainly, Shane’s lyrics grasp the truth of what he’s trying to say.

If you have Muni-related audio, video, photographs, or art you’d like to share with the world, please let us know by emailing Muni diaries.

(F)otos

The F-Market/Wharves line is actually really fun during the day. There is still your requisite group of tourists frantically wondering whether they missed the stop for Alcatraz or Pier 39, but it’s much less hurried or crowded around 11 a.m.

That’s not to say it doesn’t come with its share of odd visuals.

First up, we have the back hair that waved at me throughout the entire (thankfully short) journey from Pier 39 to the Ferry Building. I found it pretty remarkable how contained, yet not, this not-so-fashionable statement was. That reminds me, I don’t think I cleaned the lint trap out after my last dryer load (extreme close-up after the jump) …

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what was that?

I was on the loudest bus Wednesday. And that’s saying a lot coming from someone who’s regularly accused of being the loudest person anyone knows.

I live along the 31-Balboa line. Though I only know two other people who live on this line, I highly recommend a ride just for the quick-and-dirty, 40-minute lesson in San Francisco neighborhoods and people. It starts on Market, just south of the Financial District. It goes past the nicer parts of Market (until you hit the mall), then past the not-so-nice parts (mind the needles). Straight through the Tenderloin it goes, through the Western Addition and Fillmore, past Laurel Heights and into the Richmond, toward its final stop by the ocean. By extension, you can imagine the bus has a range of clientele, from FiDi yuppies to awkward USF students to cadres of obnoxious, fearless teenagers to petite Asian ladies armed with pink plastic bags.

You can probably tell where I’m going with this. No, I’m not race-baiting; I despise all willing disrupters of the bus ride equally.

But let’s focus on those obnoxious, fearless teenagers for now. They were not only loud talkers; they used the rude, yet effective “Can I get by, shit!?” to cut through the standing crowd. They then used the actual bus as a drum to accompany their impromptu song for which people silently (read: passive-aggressively) shot them angry looks. The irony meter (and everyone’s patience) tipped when a man aggressively asked them to quiet down. He then proceeded to yell into his phone about some hot chick at Starbucks.

I think that ride even beat my morning journey on the F; the one with a whole classroom of eight-year-olds.

What do you think is the loudest line? Please let me know so I can avoid it at all costs.

Tara Ramroop isn’t that loud. OK, maybe she is, but never on the bus.

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