Muni Diaries Live! Friday, Oct. 29 at the Make-Out Room

Photo by Troy Holden

Muni Diaries Live! is back at the Make-Out Room on Friday, Oct. 29, at 7:30 p.m. – yes, it’s our Halloween show! Twice a year we bring Muni Diaries from the web to the stage at the Make-Out Room, where you can share a drink or three with your fellow riders and hear stories about the love-hate ride that we can’t do without.

This time our story tellers include Derek Powazek of Fray Magazine, comedian Bucky Sinister, and Isaac Fitzgerald, whom you may know from The Rumpus, but did you know he is also the recipient of a royal Bhutanese sword? Tara the sea shanty songstress from our first show will be back too, so we hope you’re ready.

This just in: author Andrew Lam will be telling his Muni story onstage — he is the author of Perfume Dreams and East Eats West, and a champion of Literary Death Match! 

Also, if you’ve been wrangling with your Clipper card and silently mourning the end of the paper “A” Fast Pass, come to this show to see the beginning of the final faceoff between the paper Fast Pass and the Clipper card. You’ll have to be there to see what we mean…

And as always, you will have an opportunity to tell your Muni story on stage, with prizes galore! We’ll be announcing more about the lineup and prizes in the next two weeks. If you missed Muni Diaries Live! one, two, and three (how could you miss out on so much fun?), we hope to see you at this one! A mere $5 at the door will get you a night of entertainment and camaraderie, so get your stories ready and see you at the Make-Out Room!


Muni Diaries Live!
Friday, Oct. 29, 7:30 p.m. to 9:30 p.m. Only $5!
Make-Out Room — 3225 22nd Street
Routes serving the area: BART 24th St. Station, 12, 14, 22, 33, 48, 49, 67

A misfired projectile in Tiffany’s airspace

Photo by christine.ricks

100 Muni StoriesJesse told a two-minute version of this story at Muni Diaries Live! two Fridays ago, and there was no question that he was the crowd favorite of the evening. People couldn’t get enough of Jesse so we asked him to write his story in full here for you.

I was heading home from work, a task that takes about 45 minutes and one transfer. In the afternoons, I prefer to take the 1-California, as it has consistently proven to be the gentler, cleaner, more Asian cousin of the consistently troubling 38-Geary. Little did I know that this was to be no ordinary ride home. This was a bus ride that, even years later, is still burned into the memory portions of my brain (those are somewhere in the upper middle, right?). When dealing with Muni, I suppose one should always expect the unexpected.

As I approached the bus shelter, I heard a loud, angry voice taking someone to task for being a “Lazy-Assed Cracker.” Soon it was revealed that the man attached to the voice was a tall fellow who would sporadically refer to himself in the third person. His name was Leroy. Leroy seemed to be pushing 60, though I suppose he could have been younger. One thing was for sure; Leroy was not new to the streets. He was crusty in a way that is almost special. It seemed that Leroy had maintained a long and devout abstinence to water, since Y2K was a genuine threat. Leroy’s hands were swollen, coated in years and layers of sedimentary funky junk and it dawned on me that Leroy’s claws have quite possibly touched many of the same public surfaces that mine have over the years (I resolved at once to stop biting my nails). His T-shirt advertised the 1984 Los Angeles Summer Olympics and was so timeworn that maintaining its structure must have been accomplished through ancient magic long since forgotten.

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Caltrain Candy Man and the Best Compliment

Photo by Julie Michelle of i live here: SF

Ed. note: Silvi Alcivar of The Poetry Store told this story on stage at Muni Diaries Live! last Friday. If you missed her and her beautiful typewriter at the show, here is her story. She was also featured on SFGate this week. Oh, and yes, we take Caltrain and BART stories, too! You can find the rest of Caltrain stories on this page and on our @caltraindiaries Twitter feed.

I was having a terrible morning. Not only did I have to get up at 6:30am after about a week of way too little sleep, I had to get up and get on my bike, to get to Caltrain, to go to Menlo Park to get my boobs squished in a machine. Why did I have to go all the way to Menlo Park for my annual mammogram? Because I’m a poet, and poet’s don’t have health insurance, at least I don’t, and the free breast screening program I’m enrolled in meant I had to venture out of the city if I wanted to make sure my boobs were cancer free.

Not only did this feel like a hassle, I was also so broke that I almost couldn’t justify paying $12 for a day pass. I thought maybe I could get by without one, but I didn’t want to chance it, so I dished out $12 I felt like I didn’t have.

Thanks to the timeliness of Caltrain, I arrived at my appointment proud of myself for being half an hour early. I’m never early. Ever. When I went to lock up my bike, crap! I didn’t have my lock. I walked in, bike in tow, and a man appeared out of nowhere and started ushering me and my bike out. “No, no bikes in here, just leave it out there.” He pointed to a far away space not within easy eyeshot of anyone, let alone me, who was going to be in another room, getting her boobs squished in a machine. “Look,” I told him, “this bike is worth more money than I have right now. I can’t risk anything happening to it.” He gave me a look that told me he obviously was not a bike commuter, or even a bike commute appreciator. I begged the receptionist and finally she let me leave my bike right outside the door.

When I went to check in, sure enough, they had no record of my appointment. In fact, the receptionist informed me, “But we don’t do mammograms here.” A phone call or two later it turned out I was sent the wrong paper work and sent to the wrong place. A woman on the phone told me, “Your appointment is actually in San Mateo in 10 minutes.” “I’m on my bike,” I told her, “and on Caltrain, there’s no way I can’t make it.” She offered to pay for a cab. I was so frustrated and disappointed I couldn’t even talk because if I talked I was going to cry. She asked if I wanted to reschedule and I choked out, “Not. Right. Now.” Then I retrieved my bike from the place it remained perfectly safe and I headed back to Caltrain.

Of course, when I got there, I had just missed the SF train and had to wait. When finally I got on, all I wanted to do was close my eyes and disappear. Lucky for me, no such thing happened. It was about 10 a.m. or so and the bike car was virtually empty, but of course, some guy decided to sit right in front of me. Read more

Hella Hot Again at Muni Diaries Live

Photo by Flickr user Chipmonkey

More than 100 of you spent Friday night with us, doubling over laughing at BART driver Kelly Beardsley’s impersonation of a hapless German tourist and singing along to McPuzo and Trotsky’s 38 Geary song. For those of you who didn’t make it to the hot Make-Out Room that night (or couldn’t make it in due to capacity reasons – our apologies), let me give you a little taste of the ridiculously fun night.

Our favorite burlesque cheerleading squad, The Cock-Ts, kicked off our third spoken word party at the Make-Out Room with Muni cheers written especially for us. Their misguided counselor, Coach Chester, had a few faux-‘stache malfunctions, but that didn’t faze varsity cheerleaders EZ-Martini, Dizzy Disaster, and Lil Biscuit.

Photo by Flickr user Chipmonkey

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Recap! Muni Diaries Live! Under the Influence

BART train operator Kelly Beardsley shares a story about a particularly wacky night on the job. Photo by Troy Holden

Were you under the influence on Friday night somewhere other than the Make-Out Room? Man, you missed one big party, our second spoken-word event, Muni Diaries Live! Under the Influence! Much like our last show, we packed the Make-Out Room, heard some awesome stories and cheered Muni on with the incomparable Cock-T’s! And you won’t believe who showed up in a vintage transit costume. But you’ll have to read the rest to find out. Read more

Win a Prize from Good Vibrations!

Sex Toys
Photo by Flickr user bionyce

In case you’re still searching for inspiration for our first erotic short-fiction contest (“How did the condom end up on the bus?“), here’s some exciting news to get your quill dipped in ink: a goodie bag from Good Vibrations!

Yes, the awesome folks who brought you the Good Vibrations Guide To Sex, the Indie Erotic Film Festival, and of course many delightful naughty toys, are giving away a goodie bag to our contest winner! So stop being bashful, get those creative juices flowin’, and send us 250 words’ worth of your best hypothesis on how the condom ended up on Muni.

If you think our favorite mode of transportation doesn’t jive well with “business time,” consider this:

– Perhaps you’ve been flirting with the handsome stranger sitting next to you on the N when the train pulls an emergency stop underground, all lights go off, and you feel a hand on your thigh…
– Or perhaps you and your new girl had a couple of drinks one night and decided to scale the fence of the Muni yard, where you found an unlocked bus and got down to business, only to be discovered by the security guard, who decides that…
– Maybe you’re coming back home from a late late night at the office on an empty bus, and the bus driver, who looks surprisingly like Clive Owen, asked you if it’s ok to take a shortcut to your stop…

Well, you tell us the rest 😉

So let us know, in 250 words or less by Oct. 28, how you think the condom ended up on the bus. We will read the winning entry and award the prize at the next Muni Diaries spoken-word party on Oct. 30.

To jog your memory, here are the real pictures that prompted this contest:

Exhibit A: a cherry condom and a cherry cough drop nestled in the corner of the door of the 21.

Exhibit B: a used (we think) love glove hanging off of the ceiling (!) of the 47.

Exhibit C: lonely Jimmy Hat chillin’ across the seat on the T-Third (via plug1).

What steamy scenarios could have possibly led to these pictures? We eagerly await your imaginative prose …

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