Photo Diary: Muni gets hungry, too
@samuelclay says, “Muni train swallowed this poor lady’s bag.” Better than the train swallowing her, amirite?
Category: Funny: Muni LOLs
Trick or Treat
Dhyana posted this celebration of coconuty chocolate on the Muni Diaries Facebook Page, noting this:
Maybe this is part of his oeuvre, a la Felix Gonzalez-Torres. It is so contemporary.
Either that or coconut macaroons are next. But really, though, what does this “sometimes” look like when it’s cupcakes, instead?
Mutiny on Muni: How was your three-hour commute to Candlestick?
We were coming in hot. A few mimosas deep, tall boys in hand, and standing patiently at the corner of Van Ness and California, this motley crew was about to embark on the chant-filled, booze-sneaking, 15-minute 77X shuttle ride to Candlestick Park.
I can’t claim lifelong fanaticism for the 49ers, but being a San Francisco resident has taught me that you don’t miss a party in this town. The NFC Championship game had all of the potential to turn this city upside down.
Flash forward two and a half hours. We’re STILL on the 77X “express shuttle” parked on the 101. The tall cans have been consumed, the chants are falling on bitter ears, and the collective need to urinate is creating a thickness in the air you can cut with a knife. We pray…and look for any receptacle to use as a restroom.
The driver is stuck between four lanes of traffic and an increasingly agitated ridership. Passengers start discussing a plan. “Back door!” one yells, but there is nothing he can do. I am assuming the law prohibits Muni from releasing passengers on the freeway.
“I can’t take this any more!” another yells and the tide begins to swell. People are standing, swaying and ready to make their move — a mutiny is rising.
When the first passenger opens the emergency window there are a few jeers from the crowd. “Ha ha…now put the window down” is what we are all thinking. Then the first lemming jumps. I see her smiling impishly as she crawls through the window, falls onto the hard concrete of the 101 freeway and runs giggling with a drink in her hand down the side of the freeway. Then another jumps ship and another.
One after another these angry pirates help each other off the plank through the emergency window and run laughing like small children down a packed highway. They run as far as they can until the need to relieve themselves is too much. For some this is through a hole in a fence into an empty field, but for others it’s on the retaining wall next to the freeway for thousands of 49ers fans to enjoy while driving to the ‘Stick. Cell phone photos are snapped, passersby cheer for these liberated souls. Occupiers might make more news, but this is as organic a protest as I’ve seen. It is, simply put, art.
Long story short, for those who sided with the Captain of the 77X, it took more than 3 hours and 15 minutes to get approximately 7 miles. Tailgates were missed out on, frustrations reached their peak…it was a tough day.
For those who chose mutiny, the Niners loss didn’t sting as bad. They will have a story to tell of courage, community, and a pleasant Sunday stroll through Hunters Point.
Were you aboard the world’s slowest-moving public transportation vehicle yesterday? This is the place to commiserate.
Photo by Meli
‘Jack. In. The. Box. Jackinthebox.’
Photo by nchenga nchenga
Whoa, Nelly. Karen has quite the 38-Geary experience to share. Let the tea steep, get comfortable, and take this one in.
But one night stands out above all others, and has changed the way I think about a certain fast food restaurant – or at least the way I pronounce it.
I got on at Market and Fremont, as usual, and settled in. To get to 14th and Geary took forever, especially since the 38L had stopped running and that meant that we had to stop at every single stop. A few blocks later, a man in a filthy ski jacket with a pik and a Butterfinger wrapper in his giant afro got on and sat directly in front of me. He smelled a little ripe. “Oh great,” I thought, especially after I heard him muttering to himself. “It’s going to be a really, really long ride.” But then I leaned in closer to hear what he was saying.
“Jackinthebox. Jackinthebox. Jack. In. The. Box. Jackinthebox. Jackinthebox. Jack. In. The Box. Jackinthebox.”
Wow. He was clearly a big Jack in the Box fan, and I figured that I would be amused up until we got to the Jack in the Box at Mason, where he would get off. I listened, delightedly, as he chanted and muttered and proclaimed his favorite selections – “Teri-YAKI BOWL! Teri-YAKI Bowl? Jumbojack CHEESEBURGER!”
However, Mason St came and went, and two people had moved just to get away from him. And I realized:
He was going to the Jack in the Box on 10th and Geary. One stop before mine. YESSS!!!!!!!!!!
So the entire way, I got to hear his chanting and his monologue, which got crazier and crazier and faster and faster as the ride went on. Just past Japantown he opened the window and started throwing out stuff from his pockets; napkins and wrappers and whatever else was in there. (The Butterfinger wrapper stayed put, though.) I like to think it was confetti for the party that was ABOUT TO HAPPEN. By this time, about 3 other people had changed seats to get away from him, as he was bouncing with glee.
And then… We were in the Avenues. Just past Arguello he started getting really excited, and the chanting got louder. “Jackinthebox, jackinthebox, jack. In. The. Box. jackinthebox, JACKINTHEBOX!!!!!!!!” People gave each other looks like, “Whoa, he is cuh-raaaaaaazy,” but I refused to participate. I was on HIS SIDE. He could unleash all the crazy he wanted – he was so steadfast in his love for Jack in the Box, his intentions so pure, that he had my full support. (And my undying love, only matched by his undying love for Jack’s Buttermilk House Dressing which he shouted about just past Van Ness.)
At 8th and Geary, his excitement could not be contained. (Neither could mine.) He started ringing the bell, and his “Jackinthebox” mantra had hit a fevered pitch. As the bus slowed down to pull over, he was rocking back and forth with such force that my bench was shaking. And then, the bus came to a stop and he jumped up with a mighty scream…
And farted directly in my face.
The last I saw of my Jack in the Box friend he was tearing across Geary, arms akimbo, running to the Promised Land of Sourdough Cheeseburgers and Curly Fries. I thought of him barging in on the unsuspecting workers and customers, and was jealous. They had no idea what treat was in store for them!
I have a few regrets in my life – giving up my supercheap apartment downtown, saying “sure, I’d love to go on a date with you!” to a few people, being an English major – but the one I regret most of all is not getting off the bus and following him into that Jack in the Box. What did he order? How did he pay? Did he replace the Butterfinger wrapper with perhaps a packet of taco sauce? Ahhh, mysteries of life for which we’ll never have an answer. But some things I know for sure: I have never been able to say, “Jack in the Box” the same way ever again, and every time I see the commercials, I think of him and hope he’s enjoying a delicious Jumbo Jack, wherever he is… Even if it’s on the 38-Geary.
It’s best to keep regrets to a minimum, we say. Stop holding back, and share your amazing Muni stories today.
Video: What Not To Do When You See a Muni Cutie
Like, don’t do this (a scene from the video).
Come on, New Yorkers. If you must write notes, try it this way (via @LindapopSF‘s blog, Popup Poems).
Much better.
Speak Softly, Carry a Horn on Muni
…unless the guy at the very front honks the horn affixed to his cane. Per Sarah:
Hard to tell from afar, but there’s a squeaky horn on the end of that old man’s cane. I wonder if he uses it like a car horn, when people are walking too slowly in front of him, or to tell his wife to hurry up because he’s waiting outside.
It would certainly come in handy on Muni, let’s not kid ourselves here. Bravo, cane-horn guy. Few people can pull this off, but I think he does it well.