My new commute

I recently joined the ranks of the San Francisco defectors to the East Bay (specifically Oakland). In addition to the usual brand of moving irritations, I also had the annoyance of figuring out my new commute. Since I did not move very close to a Bart station & Oakland busses give me the creeps, I needed to figure out a commute that involved my car or bike. Since my bike is a gorgeous piece of work, I decided that leaving it locked up all day outside would be asking for trouble. This left my car, a not-so-gorgeous piece of work about which I had no qualms leaving out all day.

My first couple of days, my roommate & I drove to the Bart stop with which he was familiar. I quickly realized that this was expensive & added too much extra time to said commute, though it did spit me out into a fairly cool neighborhood where I was unlikely to get shot.

I then let my fingers do the walking & went on the internet to research my options. I discovered that the Oakland/Alameda ferry was a viable option, so I checked it out. Much to my delight, I discovered that it was, well, delightful. The only rub was the fact that I had to leave about an hour before my work start time. It also caused me to be very strict about my comings & goings (which I HATE). I had to leave at 5 pm sharp in order to make my boat. This, of course, was offset by the fact that the ferry serves booze.

Now, I take the Bart…a sad fact that does not please me. The Bart is so depressing. Fortunately, I get on at West O & get off at Montgomery…making my total travel time about 10 minutes. As a matter of fact, I will make a list of pros & cons for each:

Ferry Pro:

• relaxing
• clean
• fresh air
• it’s a BOAT RIDE
• nice sights to see
• free parking

Ferry Con:

• have to sacrifice an hour of sleep
• the people chatter about vapid crap
• baseball fans going to Giants games (the WORST)

Bart Pro:

• super flexible
• can ride any train coming/going (they all go thru West O)
• shorter walk to work
• get to see more crazy people
• get to hear the buskers at the station
• get to see many shiny-suited men

Bart Con:

• depressing
• slightly more expensive
• kinda gross

I need to start alternating between my beloved Ferry & the wretched Bart, I reckon. The problem is that I am the world’s laziest gal & the Bart is so much easier (and it lends itself so well to after work drankin).

She’s Just Showing Her Ignorance

A couple of weeks ago, I experienced an honest to goodness Muni freak out.  I don’t know about you, but an occasional bit of muni zany/craziness  is great for cutting the monotony of  public transport.

The rub in my little tale is the very sad fact the the crazy here was allll me…Grade D Prime Charlene (see what I did there?)

Anyways, here’s how it went down:

7:30 pm – Enter the L train, must note that I was a leetle drunk…Miller High Life IS the champagne of beers after all.
7:32 pm – Start playing a game on my phone as I do not want to  make  contact with any of the unwashed masses aboard train.
7:24 pm – I do this weird involuntary sputter thing…like when you inhale a bit-o-saliva.  No biggie – just your average minor choking fit.
7:25 pm – A woman seated near me tsk tsks & makes a disgusted face at me.
7:26 pm – Whilst standing there playing my game, it occurs to me that I don’t take kindly to corrections offered to me by strangers.  Therefore, I pause my game & mimic her disapproval of me…LOUDLY.  It also included a nifty reenactment of the face she made at me…times 10.
7:28 pm – She says to me, “It’s polite to cover your mouth when you cough”.
7: 30 pm – I answer her, “It wasn’t a cough…I choked…it was an accident…FUCK OFFFFFFF”. (upon hearing this, the people near me scurried away from crazy…ME!
7:32 pm – Muni woman slightly rises from her seat & announces to the train, “She’s just showing her ignorance”.
7:33 pm – Charlene is rendered utterly speechless.  What could I have ever said to that?!  I had to let her have the last word!

I am rad.

An Open Letter to Muni Drivers

Dear Muni Drivers,

My name is Charlene D. Evans and I, as a representative of your daily commuting riders, must pose the following questions.

1. Why must you take off as if you are a race car driver? Sir/Madam – you are driving a bus. A BUS. A bus full of unrestrained people. Unrestrained people who are often laden with parcels, elderly and/or with children.

2. Why must you slam on your brakes? Is this stop sign a huge shock to you? Did it magically appear from nowhere? Are you having Vietnam flashbacks that cause you to fear that you are about to stumble onto a camouflaged Charlie?

I ask these questions rhetorically because I already know the answer. You drive this way because you are messing with us. You like to see us flounder. You love to witness our lack of sure-footedness.

Sir/Madam, we are at your mercy. Will you please, PLEASE take it easy on us?!

Sincerely,

Charlene D. Evans

Castro Street Station

I had been meaning to jot this down for a while. To remember my random observations, I routinely scribble notes on various scraps of paper (rescued from the bottom of my purse…sparing them the disgrace of being coated with the inevitable chewing gum & lipstick, only to wind up in the bin…destiny unfulfilled).

This morning, I found one of these notes (this time on a Walgreen’s receipt). I remember this particular time…it was a long wait at the bus stop at Castro & Market. Instead of being annoyed (shocker), I chose instead to marvel at my surroundings.

Since I can’t remember exactly the emotion I felt at seeing each of these, I will instead make a list of some of the things I saw from this one particular spot:

• Suited ladies in tennis shoes
• Mothers pushing baby carriages
• Rows of majestic houses
• Tourists snapping photos
• Bicyclists in suits
• Historical streetcars driving alongside the modern vehicles
• People holding signs soliciting for money
• Travelers with luggage
• Beautiful old theater
• Big dogs carrying their toys in their mouths
• Little dogs in sweaters
• People carrying groceries
• Green cabs, blue cabs, yellow cabs
• Maze of cable overhead
• High-heeled flip flops
• Adult shops
• Myriad of electronic devices
• Man in skirt carrying dozens of balloons

The capper to this 15 minutes of my life was a very heartwarming event that actually choked me up a little…ok, a lot. In the middle of all the madness that I have listed above, I witnessed a huge burly police officer walk up to a tiny little disabled man. The cop was attired exactly like a beat cop from the movies – very tall, big hat, billy club, etc. The little man was hunched over his walker & was making very slow progress up the street. The officer walked right up to him, put his hand lightly on the man’s shoulder & sincerely exchanged pleasantries with him. This was sweet in & of itself, but when I noticed the cop leaning over & buttoning the man’s cardigan sweater, I had to avert my eyes.

Gosh dangit I love this City.

Busking & the Buskers who do it

The Montgomery Station is a cornucopia of local amateur talent that serves to entertain me. This may be an inaccurate statement, as I reckon that there may be some professional musicians in the mix as well. Here are my faves:

1. Really Old Violinist Guy: this man plays his classical music in such a way that I actually feel what he is feeling. For the most part, he makes me excruciatingly sad. This is mainly because I can only imagine how he must have been in his prime. His melancholy strains are so beautiful today – they must have been downright magical back then. I look at him and fantasize about where he grew up & in what orchestra he sat first chair. Whenever I see this dapper gentleman, I always carefully place money into his overturned hat, as tossing it would be wholly insulting to his dignity (though I am sure that I alone think this).
2. Punk Rock Pink Mohawk Guy: this first time I ever saw this one, he was playing a Ramones song. Of course, this was very deserving of my hard earned cash. Since then, he seems to play the exact same Johnny Cash song with the exact same forced affectation. I like Johnny Cash & all, but COME ON!!
3. Handsome Older Clarinet Guy: I love this man…he’s very classily dressed & really makes that clarinet sing. I have never given him money, as he always sits at the exact opposite corner of where I go & I am extremely lazy. Holy crud…I think I just shamed myself. Note to self: give Clarinet Guy a couple of bucks on way home.
4. Solo Mariachi Hombre: oh man this guy is cool. He is a short little Hispanic man in Wranglers & a cowboy hat. He has definitely received some dollars from me – mainly because I always feel like he needs help because he lost the rest of his band.

There are others, but the fact that I cannot remember them means that they are not, well, memorable.

Charlene’s rules of entering/exiting Muni

I have been too busy & too lacking in angst lately to write very much…that is until today.

Here, I must post Charlene’s rules of entering/exiting Muni:

1. If you are waiting to get on, please make room for me to get off (why does that sound dirty?)
   1. My general rule of thumb: body plow them out of the way. Elbow checks by me are common/perfectly acceptable – they are, in fact, begging for it.
   2. Addendum to above rule: self righteous/indignant look-o-disgust is a must.

 

1. If the vehicle is packed with heaving bodies & a lone soul in the middle needs to get out, LET THEM THRU!!
   1. If you are standing in the doorway of a train, step off & let people exit.

i. Note to this rule: if you see that someone has politely done the above, DO NOT take the spot they vacated to create this flow. If you do this to me, I will:

1. Stand 2 inches from you & stare in your face the whole ride.

2. Sigh disgustedly.

3. Complain about you to the other passengers…in front of you.

 

1. If you are getting off (leaving it alone this time):
   1. Wait til the vehicle come to a stop before you try to fatass your way off of it. Guess what, jerkoff – lots of the people you are trying to topple are most likely disembarking as well.
   2. Here is an example:

Me: jammed up to a bar near the door on train

Dummy: Gets up from his seat by window, carrying obligatory laptop bag

Dummy: Clamors over poor lady sitting next to him

Me: Notices this and rolls eyes

Dummy: gets next to me & stares at my white knuckled grip on the pole (again, sounds dirty)

Dummy: says “Excuse me” in a pissy fashion

Me: replies, “I am exiting, too”. This, of course, was punctuated by adding signature disgusted glare.

Dummy: “Oh”

 

Once again, proof positive that I am itching to get my ass kicked.

The new T line

So, I was really excited about this new T train that will go from the Castro Street Station all the way to the ballpark. Previously, I had to catch the packed K,L or M train to Embarcadero Station. Then I had to get off and wait for the N Judah – which went to the Ballpark. The new line meant that I would get to board one empty train and ride all the way to my destination.

Yeah, I WAS excited. Now, I am just irritated. The stupid thing made me late for work every day last week. Each day, I left earlier. Each day, I arrived later. I got trapped between the Castro & Church Street Stations for 50 minutes one day!! Apparently, it seems that Muni is having some switching problems or something…Ugh.

Until they get it worked out, I guess I will be shelling out $12 a day to park…RATS. Man, just looked at the calendar and discovered that there is a stupid day game (Giants) on Thursday. This means that I cannot drive that day, as the parking lots quadruple their prices on game days…dicks.

The only cool thing about this ordeal is that I have discovered a weird sense of kinship with my fellow Muni patrons.

I may be a Cracker, but I ain’t stupid!!!!

Back story:
I ride the 24 bus from my house (26th & Castro) in the outgoing direction. Then, I get off at 3rd & Palou (VERY bad neighborhood) and get on my 15 bus that goes down 3rd Street. Everybody thinks this is weird & that I should be riding the inbound one to the Castro Street Station (and then the underground to the ballpark). I say that the extra 10 minutes added to my commute by going the long way is well worth the fact that the 2 busses I ride are not crowded and I rarely have to stand…prime reading real estate (them Danielle Steele novels don’t read themselves). The only rub is that 3rd & Palou is an extraordinarily bad neighborhood (unnamed friend saw a double homicide here). Again, everybody who hears that I go here every morning thinks I am cuh-razy. Funnily enough, I have never ever been hassled – not even for spare change. The afore-mentioned spare change purveyors have literally asked the person to my left & right, but skipped me!

Anyways, today was the official last time I will be riding the 15 bus, as the new T Line will be officially opened. This is a streetcar that will run up & down 3rd Street. Kinda sucks on account of the fact that the 15 bus dropped me off 1 step from my building…now, I will have to walk a city block to work, but whatEVAR – it will still be faster (and it forces me to exercise). Plus, it will save me time going home because the T Line will go all the way to Castro Street Station (I used to have to get on N, then K, L, or M at Embarcadero & then get bus at Market & Castro).

Remember how I mentioned I have ridden the bus from 3rd & Palou without incident for the entire year I have take this route? This morning, this record was marred…forever.

So I was standing at the bus stop, patiently waiting for my bus. My morning had already been interesting because the 24 bus I was riding broke down at Mission & 30th – making us all have to get off and wait for the next one. This was actually the second time this week I had experienced this, but I digress. After 10 minutes, the bus arrived and we were happily on our way.

Upon arriving at 3rd & Palou, I get off the bus and walk over to the stop for the 15. I waited about 5 minutes & up it rolls. I happen to be standing right where the front door lands, so I step slightly aside to let the people get off the bus. As soon as the last person disembarks, I fat ass my way back over to in front of the door. Of course, everyone else does this, as there is no sanctity in technically being the first one there. I notice that an older fella is to my left, so I let him get on before me. Then, I take my turn. Before I could even realize what was happening, the woman behind me said, OUT LOUD, “Oh I see, white people first.” Because I am a hothead, I whipped around to say something. Unfortunately, she refuses to make eye contact, so I keep on a-walkin. At this point, I convince myself that I was imagining it & trudge on to look for a vacant seat. THEN, I unmistakably heard, “Stupid Cracker!” Again, I whip around & the beyotch looked down again. She had the guts to spew, but not to engage me. Once I sat down, I was so tempted to tell my neighbors what had just happened to be, but they didn’t look like they would be too sympathetic.

Ugh.

Dry Spell Over With a Vengeance

There was a night Giants game tonight, so I knew walking to the N Judah train would be annoying (it is right in front of the ballpark). On game days, one has to routinely wade through a sea of:
a) scalpers
b) people who act like they’ve never been to the “Big City” (or even out in public for that matter)
c) drunks
d) humungous crowds
So I get to the platform, fight through the crowd that just walked off the inbound train & wait semi-patiently for the train. Happily, I discover that one is right down the street…NICE. Further, I realize that it is not an N Judah at all – it is an S Shuttle, which means that I can take it all the way to my stop without having to transfer…YEAH!!! I ride it to Castro Street Station & walk up to my bus stop. Incredibly, the bus arrives in less than 5 minutes AND it is the 35 instead of the 24. This means that I get to walk downhill to my house instead of hiking up. Can it get any better?

Oh yes, it most assuredly can get better. I after I get on, this scruffy looking fully bearded “gentleman” boards with his similarly featured friend. They appear to most likely be very much on a budget, in their 50’s & very much free spirits. I happened to be screwing around with my Sidekick when he sat next to me (probably Twittering something dumb), which he noticed right away. He looks over and says, “You got yerself a little mini computer, doncha?” I says, “Yes I do.” Then, he says to me, “What’s yer name?” I tell him my name. THEN, he says, “You have a purty smile” to which I reply, “Um, thanks.” (by this time, I am feeling muy uneasy) He then proceeds to tell me that I am a good-looking woman and that he could be happy with a nice lady like me (har har). Finally, he asks for my phone number so that he could “buy me a cup of coffee sometime.” I said to him, “Er, no thanks.” I then take out my book and literally cover my face in the hopes that it would magically make me disappear. It didn’t, but he mercifully stopped talking to me.

Gawd, why do I have to be so irresistible?!

Na nuh nuh na nuh nuh na nuh nuh….

“Na nuh nuh na nuh nuh na nuh nuh…that’s exactly how you sound dear” – so says the cray cray woman on the bus this morning.

This morning’s ride on the 15 is the official end to my funny bus story dry spell. I knew it was gonna be a good day when this guys walks past me wearing an acid washed denim jacket with the words “Headbangers Ball” silkscreened on the back. Not a patch, not embroidery, but silkscreened….NICE!

So I gets on the bus & immediately snag an empty seat in front (the great row that has a bar in it one seat in – insuring that no one will press their meaty selves into you). Anyway, I notice a woman sitting on the same bench, but on the opposite end. The reason I noticed her was the fact that she was obviously reading the back of my newspaper – and not even trying to conceal this annoying fact. Ah well, I gots me some reading to do. Soon, it occurred to me that there was an odder than usual smell emanating from her general direction. Because I am a very clever detective, I immediately deduced that she was eating Funyons (the bag was a dead giveaway). Upon polishing off said Funyons (with mouth wide open), she segued into what looked to be a cheese sammich.

All of a sudden, I hear, “Na nuh nuh na nuh nuh na nuh nuh…that’s exactly how you sound dear”. Apparently, the woman’s chatter from across the aisle was too much for Ms. Funyons to bear (or is it Ms. Funyons?). The chatterbox just looked at Funy (my new nickname for her) & decided to keep talking, though she did switch to Spanish. That’ll learn her…

Another thing I noticed about Funy was that she was loaded down with those yellow shopping bags that you see everyone carrying in Chinatown. Lots of ‘em. Oh, and did I mention that her jacket was on inside-out? I was never so grateful to be wearing sunglasses – allowed me unrestricted eyeballin…she was definitely not the sort who you’d wanna get caught ogling. When she said to a lady (who dared to get near her with a bag), “SKEWZ me ma’am”, I was worried that she was about to go on a tear – alas, she did not.

Toward the end of the trip, she took a post meal nap, so the last 5 minutes proved uneventful.