While Muni makes its share of goofs, screw-ups, and whatnots, it’s important to remember that sometimes the reason you’re stuck waiting for Muni is not because of a bureaucratic foul-up, but because of the walking talking fecal matter known as Our Fellow Citizens.
Case in point: Today on the N-Judah inbound, the train came to a full stop at Carl and Cole at around 3pm. After a couple of minutes, the driver announced that he was unable to proceed becuase a car was parked in a red zone. The red zone is designated as such because the Muni cars need that space to be able to turn. Otherwise, they can’t.
So, after some patient waiting by the many folks in the double car, people started to get pissed, 5 minutes became 10, and 10 became 20. It was clear Human Turd Boy who parked his car illegally wasn’t coming back anytime soon. People were getting really pissed.
And this was just on my car. Imagine the conga line of autos backed up on Carl St., not to mention the people at the next stop, waiting in the cold, windy weather. OR the people waiting at the stop after that. The domino effect is quick and merciless when these idiots block the way.
Now, at this point I should point out that no one blamed Muni or the driver – they knew exactly what was up and sat there or made other plans. Some got off the train in search of other means of transport. But I, being who I am, asked the driver to clearly deisgnate which car was the troublemaker and decided to engage in some vigilante justice.
Of course, when I got off the train I had no idea what I’d do, but it made me feel better, anyway.
I was going to leave a rude note, complete with all sorts of clever ways to say “you’re a double f*cked super jackass” but alas, I was out of notepaper. Damn! Then I hit on the idea of keying the mofo’s car. But I quickly remembered one of the Laws of the Universe – the minute Ido something like this, I get caught, unlike the tool that spraypainted my car in Venice Beach (but that’s another story).
So while I decided to write down his license plate # and try and call in a tip to La Policia or whatever, another passenger was inquiring at local businesses to find the recalcitrant Turd Boy. He had no luck. He came up and said “Let’s key yuppie boy’s car!” and wrote something on the windshield in red pen that looked rather descriptive about Human Turd’s parental lineage.
I tried calling La Policia but was told to “oprima el 2” and waited for like, forever.. And that’s when Human Turd Boy (who turned out to be Human Turd Old Man) walked up and wondered why everyone at this point was glaring at him like he was Satan Incarnate and got away. Lucky bastard.
Oh how I wished we had a cop here like we did at 9th and Irving when the super cool SFPD patrolman who regularly patrols that intersectin on food moved the Big Ass Truck out of Muni’s way a while back. (SFPD officer, whoever you are, you were our hero that day!)
I gave him the finger, out of tradition, as he sped off. But not before his BMW 325i silver station wagon left me the one piece of info I needed: his license plate number.
As he sped off, and everything returned to normal, sort of, I reflected on how this nasty incident did have one benefit. For a moment, it was one of those shared moments where everyone gets together and unites as one, with no racial, religious, political or other divisions amongst them. We were all Muni riders, and we all shared a common goal.
I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate the dream of Martin Luther King Jr. than to see me and my fellow San Franciscans see each other as fellow travelers and unite in the fight against Human Turd’s injustice.
Anyway, if you’re in San Francisco, and you see this loser’s ride, with license plate xxxxxxx and it’s a silver BMW 325i Station Wagon, be sure to leave him a note telling him what a piece of crap he is.
Do NOT trash his car – the crisis has passed and tempers have cooled and you could get in trouble. But you may wanna leave him a note telling him that karma’s a bitch – and that he better be glad it wasn’t “Bat day” at SBC Park. Otherwise, he might not have a cutesy BMW to tool around in.
Armageddon Comes to the N-Judah or The Trolls of Irving Street Rebelled
Ever had one of those days where it feels like Armageddon is right here, right now? Not so much because of any hellfire or damnation about, more due to the sheer chaos and weird crap you’re seeing happen all around…