Your place to share stories on and off the bus.
Photo by Flickr user heather
Lady by door gets bumped, says to offender: You could say “excuse me.”
Offender: I did say excuse me!
Lady: You could say it louder.
Offender: EXCUSE ME. How’s that?
Lady: It’s over. Hello, goodbye.
Offender: UGH. *exits*
Lady: Whatever. Bitch.
Photo by Denay
Muni rider Denay sent this jewel to our inbox:
My friend and I were riding the 33 to our local friendly Comcast (sarcasm) and we witnessed an off duty muni driver clipping his fingernails in the back. He didn’t even bother to collect the freshly shorn nails off the floor!
Can we get a “ewwww”? We all know that people who ride Muni should not resort to manicures on public transit. But now operators are doing it, too? As Charlie Brown would say: Good grief!
[Regrettably, the video originally embedded in this post has been removed from Flickr.]
Last week, we posted a photo by crow_soup that purported to show a Muni bus operator smoking inside his bus. This blogger believed the evidence shown there, but some commenters questioned what was actually being shown.
So crow_soup went and shot himself some video. Video showing irrefutably that the driver in question is indeed tokin’ it, right there in the comfort of his comfortable bus driver’s seat.
Anyone care to argue now? Oh, and hey, crow_soup, I’m also with Rachel: Are you going to report this outrageous behavior?
Thx: @crow_soup
Photo by Flickr user messtiza
I’m going to get a lot of hate mail for this one, especially since I’m also the person who hates disabled people with casts, as well as small, innocent children on field trips.
It’s really kind of funny. Twenty-somethin’ gal with her BlackBerry and her text messaging and her internets. Older gentleman with his morning newspaper. Odd-couple comedy in the making!
So this man gets on the bus and grabs a seat next to me in a disabled section crowded with fellow commuters. I check to make sure there aren’t other older or pregnant folks trying to nab a seat, then get back to my internets. The gent opens his newspaper (the San Francisco Examiner, which I used to write for) and extends one side of it and his arm far into my seat/space. I politely say, “Excuse me,” and, thinking the issue is over, am actually surprised when he, clearly affronted, wants to know what I was excusing-me for.
Hmm, OK. I note as politely and even-voicedly (though also kind of flustered and surprised) as I can that his newspaper is in my space, and that if he could just fold up a bit more, that would be great. As easy as it could be to tell him he needed to back the F up, I first incorrectly said (who knew I’d actually have to explain it) his paper was touching me. OK (calm vibes), I guess it’s not exactly touching me, but it’s hovering over my lap, and I’m personally folded up as much as I can be, you know? I happen to agree with the fine etiquette ladies at Muni Manners, who noted in a post about this very phenomenon that folding your newspaper to lessen your impact, but still get your news, is the safe and courteous thing to do for all. Read more
Photo by Flickr user lexflex
The following account by Sonia involves real people doing real things. Really.
My mighty, mighty good man David and I were heading to an A’s game and decided to take the T-train from our apartment in Dogpatch to Embarcadero, where we could catch BART to the Oakland Coliseum or whatever it is called now. (For the record, I am a Giants fan, but David likes the A’s. Since both of us are good sports, we go to both teams’ games. Apparently, this is a no-no in the Bay Area. Too bad!)
So anyway, apparently, we picked the wrong weekend to use public transportation. Not only was it Gay Pride Weekend, but the Vans Warped Tour was also going on. The T was positively packed with drunk, sunburned people.
Even though the train was crowded, a woman in her tiny shorts, halter top and stripper heels decided to treat the handrail like a stripper pole. She lifted herself up and swung her leg over the railing, hanging upside down.
Photo by Flickr user happy bachelor
This delightful tale came to our inbox from Muni rider Andrew …
It wasn’t so fun at the time, now that I think of it, but it’s funny in retrospect.
My girlfriend and I are regular 30-Stockton riders, from North Point & Hyde to Sutter & Stockton. As you may know, the 30-Stockton is a risk-life-and-limb kind of line (especially around 8:30am) but we were lucky enough after work last week to find ourselves on a relatively empty outbound 30 where we could safely sit in the far-back facing-inward seats without worrying about cans shuffling or random bowel movements.
Boarding with us were two young gentlemen, one of fifteen years (or so he later said) and one in his mid-twenties. The younger sat in the set of facing-inward seats across the aisle, while the other sat close to the back door. And no sooner had we cleared the tunnel when the fifteen-year-old pulls a quarter out of his pocket and begins scrawling Heaven-knows-what into his plastic seat back.
My girlfriend, not one to take vandalism figuratively sitting down, shouts, “Hey, kid, cut that out!”
No response.
“Hey! STOP.”
Now he looks up. “Hey, I can do what I want.” (yes, this is the most stereotypical teenager phrase ever. I wanted to say, “really? So I can rip your ass a second hole because I WANT to?” But he was a minor, and should a police report get filed, I wanted to keep my mentions of his ass to a minimum.)