As it turns out, the streetcar goes crazy Saturday evening. We usually take the subway from downtown to the Castro, but some sort of delays occurred, and the station was packed, so we headed above ground to the F Train. That's right.
And the aboveground is a different world than the underground. The ride started out with someone slipping in the back door, a shouting match between two men blamed on either "Iraq" or "a rock" depending on if you ask me or my seat mate, a lady who got off after announcing to the train that she had bladder cancer and required a catheter, and a tourist with a giant camera who was taking his daughter to the Castro. While the underground is generally uneventful, apparently the streetcar is full of all the color. It reminded me of taking the bus in Albuquerque.
Showing posts with label Transit Adventures. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Transit Adventures. Show all posts
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Transit Adventures V
Saturday evening around 6, we took a fairly crowded bus up the hill. I started standing but turned around to look at the back to see if there were any seats available, as this bus ride is rather crazy and takes some arm strength just to keep upright. There was just one seat open, the middle of the 5-seat row in back. One guy on the side saw me glance over and immediately adjusted his bag and jacket to allow me to sit down. Later on during the ride we shared a laugh out of our leg contortions trying to allow the people at the ends of the row to get past us and out the bus.
As he finally headed for the door, we noticed that the tattoos on his uncovered bicep were, in fact, sperm. Several sperm, swimming upstream toward his shoulder.
That, along with the women making out at a bar, and the chocolate penis that a nice young man let J.S. pick out at Hot Cookie ($1 per inch), are just some of the liberal reasons that San Francisco is awesome and hilarious.
As he finally headed for the door, we noticed that the tattoos on his uncovered bicep were, in fact, sperm. Several sperm, swimming upstream toward his shoulder.
That, along with the women making out at a bar, and the chocolate penis that a nice young man let J.S. pick out at Hot Cookie ($1 per inch), are just some of the liberal reasons that San Francisco is awesome and hilarious.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Transit Adventures IV
This afternoon I ventured into the city to meet up with Matt for the missing City Walks SF #9 (now updated). I hopped on the bus, grabbed a transfer, and headed into the subway. When I got off the train, police were checking transfers and passes.
As Matt can tell you, I am notorious (amongst the immediate family) for never being able to find my transfer. I never remember which pocket I put it in or, heaven forbid, which part of my gigantic bag it might be hiding in. I recently started trying to put my transfers in the same purse pocket every time. (I have to have transfers because Matt thinks I don't ride the bus enough to pay for a transit pass. I think it would be paid for with my peace of mind...) So, when stopped by the police, I pulled the entire contents of the pocket out. After a moment of shuffling papers, I produced a transfer.
Unfortunately the transfer was from February 1st, which I realized as soon as I held it up because it was too long for the one I got today (the length of transfers depends on how long it is good until). So I immediately shuffled around for the real transfer, during which the police lady said, "What date is that?" I suddenly found the correct transfer, mistakenly said, "Oh there it is," and then showed the correct transfer to the police officer.
You would have thought I was trying to skip town, or even trying to not pay a lousy $1.50 transit fare. She gave me a lecture on how next time I better show her the correct transfer the first time, and not try to pass one off with the wrong date.
Good grief! It's not like I didn't have the correct transfer. That would be a different story. I obviously wasn't trying to evade the system. And yet I nearly got slapped with a multi-hundred dollar fine.
Matt may have to buy me a bus pass.
As Matt can tell you, I am notorious (amongst the immediate family) for never being able to find my transfer. I never remember which pocket I put it in or, heaven forbid, which part of my gigantic bag it might be hiding in. I recently started trying to put my transfers in the same purse pocket every time. (I have to have transfers because Matt thinks I don't ride the bus enough to pay for a transit pass. I think it would be paid for with my peace of mind...) So, when stopped by the police, I pulled the entire contents of the pocket out. After a moment of shuffling papers, I produced a transfer.
Unfortunately the transfer was from February 1st, which I realized as soon as I held it up because it was too long for the one I got today (the length of transfers depends on how long it is good until). So I immediately shuffled around for the real transfer, during which the police lady said, "What date is that?" I suddenly found the correct transfer, mistakenly said, "Oh there it is," and then showed the correct transfer to the police officer.
You would have thought I was trying to skip town, or even trying to not pay a lousy $1.50 transit fare. She gave me a lecture on how next time I better show her the correct transfer the first time, and not try to pass one off with the wrong date.
Good grief! It's not like I didn't have the correct transfer. That would be a different story. I obviously wasn't trying to evade the system. And yet I nearly got slapped with a multi-hundred dollar fine.
Matt may have to buy me a bus pass.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Transit Adventure III
After the Thursday night hockey game, we arrived home and went to bed after 12:30. I had a climate change conference to go to the next day, and I didn't want to miss the plenary, so I got up at 6:30. I thought that if I caught the 7:30 bus I might be able to make it to the Embarcadero by 8, but I wouldn't have been able to do so by walking to the Castro.
So I headed over to the bus stop. I got there at 7:24, because Matt says you have to get there early to get a seat. There were no people. And no bus, despite the fact that the bus usually takes a 10 minute break there.
Shortly thereafter, a car pulled up to the stop and the front window rolled down. I saw these two older women that I'd run into in the stairwell of my building. We're going down to Castro, they said, would you like a ride?
I thought this over for about one second, before deciding, yes, I would in fact like a ride. After all, the car was nice, they lived in my building, and the bus was obviously not coming.
So I got in.
Scoot over they said, we're picking more people up.
And sure enough, at the next bus stop, we picked up a gentleman who apparently had been getting rides from these ladies for quite some time. I suspect he might have met them just the way I did - at the bus stop. The lady in the front seat told me that they always try to give people rides, but lots of people don't take them up on it - after all, it's not like they know them.
The old lady that was driving the car flew down the hill like nobody's business, with the other lady reminding her to slow down because they had a new passenger. Apparently the driver used to work for Muni. She got down the hill in about two minutes, a trek that would have taken me 20 minutes on foot and 10 minutes on the bus. Then she dropped the other three of us off right in front of the subway station.
I hopped on a train and was at the conference by 7:45.
Only in San Francisco.
So I headed over to the bus stop. I got there at 7:24, because Matt says you have to get there early to get a seat. There were no people. And no bus, despite the fact that the bus usually takes a 10 minute break there.
Shortly thereafter, a car pulled up to the stop and the front window rolled down. I saw these two older women that I'd run into in the stairwell of my building. We're going down to Castro, they said, would you like a ride?
I thought this over for about one second, before deciding, yes, I would in fact like a ride. After all, the car was nice, they lived in my building, and the bus was obviously not coming.
So I got in.
Scoot over they said, we're picking more people up.
And sure enough, at the next bus stop, we picked up a gentleman who apparently had been getting rides from these ladies for quite some time. I suspect he might have met them just the way I did - at the bus stop. The lady in the front seat told me that they always try to give people rides, but lots of people don't take them up on it - after all, it's not like they know them.
The old lady that was driving the car flew down the hill like nobody's business, with the other lady reminding her to slow down because they had a new passenger. Apparently the driver used to work for Muni. She got down the hill in about two minutes, a trek that would have taken me 20 minutes on foot and 10 minutes on the bus. Then she dropped the other three of us off right in front of the subway station.
I hopped on a train and was at the conference by 7:45.
Only in San Francisco.
Transit Adventure II
Awhile back we were sitting in the back of a double-length bus when a young man headed toward the back stairs to exit, but instead stopped, got out a giant marker, and tagged the bus - right in front of at least 5 people.
I said, "Seriously?" really loudly. Matt elbowed me. Then the kid looked over at me, and I looked right at him and lifted my hands and shoulders in a "What the Hell?" kind of posture. He calmly turned and got off the bus.
I proceeded to lament the rest of the trip that I should have been more forceful with this kid. Maybe told him that the rest of the passengers don't appreciate riding in a crappy bus. And that muni would eventually have to pay to clean it up. Matt thinks I just should have shut up and not worried about it, because what difference would it make.
I just hate feeling so spineless.
I said, "Seriously?" really loudly. Matt elbowed me. Then the kid looked over at me, and I looked right at him and lifted my hands and shoulders in a "What the Hell?" kind of posture. He calmly turned and got off the bus.
I proceeded to lament the rest of the trip that I should have been more forceful with this kid. Maybe told him that the rest of the passengers don't appreciate riding in a crappy bus. And that muni would eventually have to pay to clean it up. Matt thinks I just should have shut up and not worried about it, because what difference would it make.
I just hate feeling so spineless.
Transit Adventure I
On our way home from the hockey game, we had to transfer from the train to the good old Muni to take us home. This transfer happened around midnight.
On a ride that is supposed to take well over 30 minutes, our driver got us to our destination in just 15 minutes. He apparently spent all the while talking to himself, which is generally a behavior typical of bus passengers, NOT the bus driver.
After we got off the bus, we discovered that he'd been driving the whole way with the engine compartment cover in its open position - in other words perpendicular to the back of the bus, sticking out into traffic. (I had a great picture of this on my cell phone, but being technologically inept, I apparently failed to save it.)
Note to self: don't ride muni after midnight.
On a ride that is supposed to take well over 30 minutes, our driver got us to our destination in just 15 minutes. He apparently spent all the while talking to himself, which is generally a behavior typical of bus passengers, NOT the bus driver.
After we got off the bus, we discovered that he'd been driving the whole way with the engine compartment cover in its open position - in other words perpendicular to the back of the bus, sticking out into traffic. (I had a great picture of this on my cell phone, but being technologically inept, I apparently failed to save it.)
Note to self: don't ride muni after midnight.
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