Category: BART

Photo by Simon Miller

Muni rider Beth has discovered a bit of an issue …

Many of us ride BART and Muni every day without even thinking about the elevators. They fit so few people, they’re slow, and their floors are often bespattered with mysterious liquids. (Sounds like a precursor for a ride on a Muni bus, no?) It wasn’t until I started taking my daughter in her stroller on BART semi-regularly that I discovered something really odd.

In the four downtown stations (Embarcadero, Montgomery, Powell, and Civic Center), the elevators are outside the fare gates. That means you can go from the platform to the concourse level … and not pay.

Unfortunately, I found out the hard way that this has its consequences. I got on BART from, shall we say, a southern San Francisco BART stop, and went to Civic Center. I came up on the elevator and left the station without paying. I know, I know. It was not my most conscionable moment. Then I got back on at Civic Center, went down in the elevator, and went home.

That’s when I got charged a $5.20 “excursion fare” for my journey, which would have otherwise cost me $1.75.

However, if you only get on and off at one of the downtown stations, you could conceivably ride for free. And that’s BART or Muni — the elevators go to both platforms. (In fact, they’re the only way to get directly from the BART platform to the Muni platform without going to the concourse first.)

SFMTA PR Officer Kristen Holland says to watch out for fare cops. “The 42 SFMTA Transit Fare Inspectors who are out on Muni every day are very knowledgeable in the creative ways that people try to evade paying their fair share on Muni.”

I agree, you should pay the fare. But odd that nothing more is being done to address this specific situation. I suppose there’s not much BART and Muni can do about it, considering how hard it would be to build new elevators inside the gates, or gates just outside the elevators.

Photo by superciliousness

It was Friday, so of course I was headed downtown with an unlabeled box containing six bottles of wine. I was going to meet my wife and a good friend at, yes, a wine bar. The bottles belonged to the friend — her last shipment from a wine club she belongs to. Long story, not important.

It was a rather self-conscious walk down Valencia to the 16th St. BART station, mostly because of the weight and awkwardness of the wine box. But I’m no complainer — I just walked with an ounce of extra-awareness the whole way.

When I got to the platform at 16th St., the next train was still about 2 or 3 minutes away, so I decided to give my arms and shoulders a short break. I set the box down. And when I did, the faintest “clink” emerged. It was the loudest, shortest sound ever emitted anywhere in the universe.

A woman standing a few feet away looked over, and without my looking back at her, said, “I heard that!” At that point, it could’ve gone any number of ways. But here’s how it went instead:

I replied, “Oh, haha. But how do you know what it is?” (Remember: The box wasn’t labeled.)

“I just came from a wine and cheese at work,” she said. “I know that sound when I hear it.” She laughed.

“Okay, okay, you got me,” I said. She made a joke about giving her a bottle, but I decided to change the subject.

“A coworker told me recently about a method of opening wine bottles without using a corkscrew. It’s involves 1) being French, 2) being drunk, 3) taking the foil off, placing the bottom of the bottle in an empty shoe, and beating it repeatedly against the wall. The cork inches its way out of the bottle until eventually, voila! You’ve got a bottle of de-corked wine” (here a video demonstration … but alas, I digress.)

The train came. We kept talking, but sat in different rows.

When my stop (Powell) came, I got up to walk toward the door. She smiled at me. I told her that, next time I see her and I’m carrying wine, I’ll give her a bottle. And I’m totally serious.