Little Tyrants at 4th and King

It's always the same. I get off Caltrain at 4th and King and there's an outbound N Judah waiting on the platform with its doors open. People are getting in. Good for them; it's 50 degrees and windy, or raining, or midnight. Or 50 degrees and windy and raining and midnight.

My fellow Caltrain riders and I wait for the traffic light to change. As we cross the street, the driver looks at us, closes the doors, and moves forward on the platform a few feet to the red light. The very long red light. Or waits until we have reached the platform then closes the doors and pulls forward. Sometimes someone outside pushes a door button and says to the driver, "Hey, the door's not opening." Regardless, the driver doesn't make eye contact. The train continues to wait at the platform while the people who haven't experienced this regularly suddenly understand the reality:

The weather sucks ass, and the driver's not going to let me on.

A quick glance at the NextMUNI sign shows that the runs-every-few-minutes N isn't going to be along for 20 or 30 minutes. The driver knows the next train is late, and that he or she is about to leave people standing out in the cold/rain/dark/wind until it shows up. The driver contemplates this in self-satisfaction, and the people on the platform look through the windows into the warm train and tighten their coats. Time passes and the light changes, and the train slowly recedes down the street. Would-be passengers mill about, powerless and humiliated.

Admit it: If you could inflict misery and outrage on complete strangers, every day, with total impunity, you'd do it too, right? If your answer is actually "yes," then the San Francisco Muni Metro has a job for you.

Freezing to Death at Taraval (Where were the 29s? Part 2)

So Saturday around noon it was beautiful out here in the Sunset. I had such plans for photography. I was going to shoot some street candids then in mid afternoon walk from Sloat to Judah up the beach, and take more candids and some IR photos. Part A worked out well; I took the N to Noe, then walked down to Castro Station, and took the L or K or something through the tunnel. I'd never been to Forest Hill station so I got off there and actually walked the 120 or so steps up, then back down. (Damn, that's a lot of stairs. They're complaining about the proposed Chinatown station being 100 feet underground? Forest Hill is already 75 or 80. Like, big deal.)


Then I rode the Taraval to the end of the line. Still, from inside the train, it looked like a beautiful day! I got out and was instantly disabused of that notion. It was only about 3PM but the weather had changed .... It was about 50 degrees and the wind was blowing. Blowing. So much, in fact, that sand had drifted partially across the parking lot opposite Sloat. I tried to walk down to the water but my hair, pockets, and eyes were filling up with sand. I turned around, and so much for that. Problem was, now I was stuck down near Sloat and I needed to be on Judah, and it was just no fun anymore. I needed a bus. I'm embarrassed to admit that I forgot that the 18 runs on 46th; I began my search for it at 45th and kept walking uphill. "Where is the bus stop?" I wondered. I zigzagged my way to Taraval and finally thought, okay, I will just walk up to Sunset and take the 29.

What all this very very long story is coming to is that when I got to the 29 stop, the nextmuni banner read 33 minutes. On Saturday afternoon. In godawful weather.

That's service for ya.

I had lost interest in freezing to death so I took the L back to Van Ness and then the N home. Sooo sloooow. Oh well. I had a nice conversation on the way back, which was unusual, and cool.

Oh. I thought it was kind of neat that the Taraval bus stop faced away from the water, to shield passengers from the weather. But then again, if you're shielding yourself from the weather, how do you see the bus, and vice versa? The striped glass isn't all that transparent from a distance. A well intentioned, but fundamentally stupid, design.