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.

wisdom on the 49

I was on a 49-Van Ness yesterday evening, as the results for several East Coast states were coming in and Election Day was gearing up for the good stuff.

First, I listened to a man chatting with someone on the phone, who gave the most recent play-by-play results he had been watching for all day. He then demanded a free lunch if Obama reached 350 electoral votes. Results right now (9 a.m. on Thursday) show he’s at 349, with no major network yet calling North Carolina for the president-elect.

Then two boys got on with their moms. They were buddies, clearly, talking about school and their Halloween costumes, particularly which Halloween superstore had the best Batman costume.

Boy 1 was Hispanic, and said he lives wayyy down the 49, meaning he probably lives in the Excelsior, or somewhere else near City College on the south side of town. He had a few things to say about Tuesday’s election.

Boy 1: Everyone gets to vote today. Where are you from?

Boy 2: Los Angeles.

Boy 1: Oh. That’s near Mexico, right?

Boy 2: Yeah, kind of.

Boy 1: Well, I’m from Mexico, and McCain wants us to leave. He wants all the Mexicans to leave and go back to Mexico. But Obama wants us to stay.

Make of it what you will.

When Women Rule the World: what I learned on the 1 California

Not Connie Chung, but still

Not Connie Chung, but still

I was on the 1 California with my younger sister and cousin when a man wearing his Army uniform came to sit next to us. It’s such a beautiful day, he said, too bad the economy is in the dumps. We laugh and agree. Then he said:

“But you guys, you will do fine, women make better decisions! This bad stuff wouldn’t happen if women ran the world, you know, like Hillary Clinton. Also, I like that Connie Chung too.”

Not missing a beat, my sister said:

“Isn’t Connie Chung busy having babies with Maury Povich?”

Documentary About London Underground Maps

We don’t talk about Muni transit maps on this site much. Perhaps we should.

But I came across this riveting documentary about the maps for the London Underground. (Thx: Kottke)

The documentary is really more about design than transit per se. But maps affect our understanding of how a system works. Therefore, in my mind, the maps are key to the efficient use of any public transit system.

Now, if only we had a world-class system here in San Francisco …

– Jeff wishes we could start San Francisco over, SIMS-style, and give it the transit-first layout it truly deserves.

no comprende?

As a word nerd, as well as a recent visitor to a handful of foreign countries, odd sentence construction is one of the biggest WTFs you can come across if you’re not entirely fluent in a language; even if you speak a fairly decent textbook version thereof.

But I mostly write this tale as a woman, horrified by a man’s conversational skills on a moving vehicle, where everyone can (unfortunately) hear every word of his awkward conversation with two girls from Switzerland.

It’s good to be home.

Let me start the tale of awkwardness by explaining the body language in this situation, for which I fully craned my neck to get a gander at. Two girls, maybe 20, but probably younger, were standing on a crowded bus, chatting among themselves. A man, who was probably around 30, was standing behind them, attempting over (and over) again to engage them in conversation. I think we all know that it’s a bad sign when the object of your conversational interest: 1) doesn’t ask you a single question back, or 2) only turns around to face you when you ask one of your many questions.

But off he went anyway. Here’s a sampling:

Guy: So what goes on in Switzerland?
Swiss girls: What?
Guy: What do you do there? Like, for fun?

Commentary: “What’s going on?” is a very oddly worded phrase on its own. Turn it around like the way he did, to people who aren’t fluent in English, and you get this.

There’s a reason foreign English is funny; we never say things like “The reason for this is because…” unless we’re directly translating from another language. So a phrase like “What’s going on?” definitely loses something in the translation.

Guy: So there are a lot of mountains and stuff in Switzerland?
Swiss girls: Um, yes. Many mountains.

Commentary: Clutching at straws then, aren’t we? This kind of question is always the low point, on whatever end of the conversation you’re on. I personally ask questions like this when I don’t like someone, but am forced to be in their company, or am horribly uncomfortable.

But he continues with the kicker!

Guy: So, how old are you girls? 15? 16? 17?
Swiss girl 1: What’s the saying? You don’t ask a woman her age?
Guy: Nah, that’s only for women in their 30s!

Commentary: Good answer from the girls, and probably a good indication that they spoke better English than they first let on. Also, you’re a creepy asshole if you look anywhere near the vicinity of 30 (or older) and ask such a question. You then earn more creepy points for denouncing the statement as something for women…in your own age group.

Everyone eventually got off the bus, leaving me to stew in their residual cloud of awkward.

Yeah, it’s good to be home.

Tara Ramroop has only been let down a handful of times by Muni in the week since she’s been back. Progress?

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