Your place to share stories on and off the bus.
Muni rider Jason sends the photo above, and says:
ok maybe they couldn’t afford a real shelter, but at least now we can sit down in the rain waiting for a southbound 22
How are you coping with all the waterwater and ice falling from the sky?
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I love this photo by davitydave. And the wet weather continues …
Photo by Jennifer 8. Lee
Oh no you din’t, Ms. 8. Lee.
Also, I’m glad The New York Times has copy editors. (“Whats with all the brown?” What’s with no apostrophe, more like.)
Okay, you’re right about the brown. Most of us would prefer an orange something along the lines of 2010 World Champion San Francisco Giants or something. We’ll see what we can do.
Photo by laughing spinning dancing
Can one really be done without the other?
In his effort to ride all the Muni lines in the city, Gabriel Wheeler of Destination Nowhere asked his friend Audra Wolfmannn to come for a ride on the 38-Geary. Instead, her alter ego Odessa Lil showed up.
Odessa Lil is MC for hire. She hosts many a burlesque show, but does not limit herself to one calling. She will do weddings, divorces , Bar Mitzvahs, funerals, just ask!
Our first stop was Trader Sams where we indulged in some delicious cocktails. Odessa Lil kindly posed for photos with the bar’s patrons, the bartender, and the pinball machine.
Later we found ourselves at the old Transbay Terminal (R.I.P.). It was very sullen and full of homeless residents. It had an air of danger so we did not linger too long, but I snapped some good shots without any incident.
We ended our day at Union Square where Odessa Lil put her riding crop to good use by spanking some willing tourists and posing for more photos. It was an 8-hour adventure I’ll never forget.
I have done about 27 or so of these rides and each one is just as exciting as the last. But so far Odessa Lil has been the most colorful. Check my blog for new updates as I continue to explore San Francisco via Muni.
Thanks, Gabriel!
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Photo by caffeina
Sometimes life is worth living because of chance meetings and moments like these. Wil didn’t let this moment pass him by. Here’s his story.
She was amazing. Slender with long black hair, a soft face, and clothes that told you she worked in an office, but refused to conform totally… Her rock-star boots and black tights lead up to an uneven jean skirt with a more conservative silk blouse darting out from beneath a cashmere sweater. As I walked toward the open seats I got caught staring and smiled, turning the darkest shade of red possible. She, seeing me smile, smiled back bobbing her head to the music pumping through her white ear buds. Without thought I sat next to her in the only occupied row in sight, removed my headphones, and stretched out my hand. She shook it, removing one ear bud suspiciously with her free hand.
“I’m Wil, nice to meet you.”
“Amber.” she grinned as the train lunged forward, ringing it’s warning to pedestrians as it crossed the street.
I asked her what she was listening to, The Dead Weather. Had she heard that The White Stripes had officially called it quits today? She hadn’t. I lamented never seeing them live, she had seen them twice, I was more jealous than I could express.
“What are you reading?” she asked taking off the other ear bud and pointing at the thick volume in my right hand.
“The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt,” I read aloud, offering her the cover. “I don’t recommend you read it unless you want to feel like a complete and total waste of space.” She laughed. The train was stopping again at Brannan. “I’m not kidding, I’m almost 500 pages in and I just finally got to his thirty-third birthday, my age. So far he’s accomplished more than I am ever likely to, and he’s not even done any of the stuff he’s famous for yet.” She laughs again, giving me a look that could only mean she’s measuring me as the train gets moving again, now with more passengers.
We continue to talk, she keeps laughing, the train continues to fill, but with each stop that passes my heart sinks further and further… I’m on the clock. This could all end at any moment and I’m nearly out of things to say that won’t completely betray the pounding in my chest (if she can’t already feel it through the plastic bench joining us.)
“I love your boots,” I say, looking down at her feet. She shuffles her legs to demonstrate them for closer inspection, “…and everything else about you.” I squeamishly utter, looking up at her face. She looks in the direction of the other seats and blushes.
“Thanks, you’re not so bad yourself, for some random guy on the train…”
“I’m not some random guy,” clutching my chest, acting hurt, “I’m Wil.” She laughs. This is my final chance, I can feel it… “So, I’m getting off in Cole Valley, want to get a drink?” In the second or so that I wait for her answer I feel as though falling through the air, this is going to hurt. She looks at me, more suspiciously than ever, but smiles with all her teeth.
“Sure… that’s my stop too.”
I blush, looking away and see the beaming faces of a couple dozen strangers smiling back at me. The train stops at Cole and everyone knowingly makes a path for us as we take off into the night, hearts pounding, trying not to smile too wide. I guess I won’t have to repeat *this* Groundhog Day.