Another 29, Another FAIL

I got on the 29 this morning in plenty of time to make my work shuttle to Palo Alto. The bus was full and we passed up the usual dozen or so people on Sunset, but all was well until we turned around at Crespi and Varela (Park Merced), where the driver began to say things like: "What's she doing?" and "Well we may not be going anywhere with this bus today." We crossed 19th and our driver stopped, got out, had a quick word with an inspector who had apparently flagged her down, then pulled around the corner and stopped again. The inspector (an efficient-sounding, slender 50-ish woman) and the driver started talking about the outside right mirror on the bus. "I know, I was just trying to get everyone where they want to go this morning," she said.

But the inspector pulled the bus out of service and the driver offloaded us. I guess the reasoning was that we would run over fewer people, on average, if the mirror was set properly. Doing the arithmetic, I figured my shuttle would be 1-2 minutes gone (at least) by the time I got to Balboa Park, so I crossed to the M platform ....

So I'm in our downtown office today, which is fine, except that my management gets annoyed with me if I spend more than one day a week here, and Monday isn't the day I wanted to spend here this week.

Plus I really, really, really need coffee now. At least I can go take care of that in a few minutes.

I Should've Got off at Chrissy Field, Part I

So Saturday I was planning to take some photos of the Maltese Falcon crossing under the Golden Gate Bridge at low tide, 2:00 PM. It took me a while to get my incredibly disorganized gear together but eventually I set out at around 12:30 to catch a 29. NextMuni told me the bus would pick me up at my Sunset stop a little before 1. I figured, most of 45 minutes to get to some spot toward the east end of Chrissy Field, I'd have 15-30 minutes to spare, no big deal.

1PM passed and no 29. I asked a girl waiting on the bench next to me, "Have you been here a while?" 20 minutes she said. Eventually two 29s arrived together. The first was a 25th and Geary and the second, according to the driver of the first, was "going allllll the way." Sounded like my bus! So I got on, lugging over 30 pounds of camera gear, and a tripod, and got set for a scenic ride through the park and around Baker Beach.

Little did I know that on this Saturday morning, there had already been an accident on Lincoln. Then there was this:

Mile-long line for Academy of Sciences opening

The California Academy of Sciences finally opened its revolutionary, eco-friendly, glass-enclosed iconic building in Golden Gate Park on Saturday, and welcomed an enthusiastic invasion by tens of thousands of visitors waiting in line for five hours or more.

It took us at least 10 minutes to get into the park from about 22nd and Lincoln, and traffic was still inching along northbound on 19th. The reason for that became clear a few minutes later when we inched by a couple of cop cars behind a rear-end accident in the left lane. But at that point the road was wide open and it was clear sailing to Baker Beach.

After that, we continued to the Golden Gate Bridge, squeezed our way through some confused tourists, and started to enter the dubiously small bridge underpass. A 28 was coming the other way, though, and almost immediately our driver was window-to-window with the other driver saying things like "It won't work!" What definitely would not work was either bus continuing forward. Now the underpass is a very popular route for Muni, tourbuses, cyclists, pedestrians, and of course disoriented tourists in rental cars. Immediately vehicles stacked up behind both buses. It took two cops (who fortunately are easy to find there) and about 10 minutes to get our bus backed up and out of the way and then back into the tunnel, without the 28 in the way this time. At this point it was probably about 1:40, not good, but not panic mode, because Chrissy field was less than 5 minutes away.

Our driver was one of the most cheerful and good-humored drivers I've ever encountered on Muni, which was great up until this point, but I began to lose confidence when he started to say repeatedly, "I don't know my way around here. I've never driven this route all the way up here. I'm not supposed to be here." (Dude, step outside and look at the letters above your windshield.) Just out of the tunnel he stops next to an outbound 29 and asks "Have you got the lefts and rights for this route?"

Yes, we had a driver who had never driven the route and was asking another driver for his route sheet.

Good humor, it turns out, won't actually steer a bus. But the driver, cheat sheet in hand, did manage to find Chrissy Field by about 10 till. Hoping to get a little farther east to get a slightly better vantage point (I wanted to be farther from the bridge so I could get a larger variety of photos), I stayed on.

Unfortunately, after that, we proceeded to take a route that no 29 had ever taken before, and probably never will again - wandering aimlessly through the Presidio until somehow we wound up on California, then on Geary around 4th, and then of course he drove all the way to 25th and Geary and let us off. By then it was about 2:30 and a once-in-a-lifetime photo had already sailed away, so to speak. Clearly, my gambit to save a little less than a mile of walking with my gear had been a foolish one.

So, fuming at this point, I rode a 38 to Park Presidio and waited for a 28, along with about 50 other people (!!) who had apparently been there as long as an hour. Three or four 28s came by in a row and I got on the last one and around 3:00, ta-da!, I was back at the bridge. I wondered, could I get a photo of the yacht? Could it somehow be late? I hurried to the railing at the overlook, to see three huge sails disappearing behind Angel Island at least 5 miles away. The sight lasted maybe 10 seconds. Oh well. I sat at the inbound 29 stop and out of boredom took photos of tourists with a 300mm lens. Tourists are boring subjects, though, so I got back on an inbound 29 (you're thinking, do I have a hole in my head?). Figuring I would wind up taking some photos of sailboats or something I did get off at Chrissy Field this time, then hoofed it to the beach and set up a tripod. (I really dislike carrying tripods and I was determined to get at least a little use out of it.) Turns out, most of the sailboats had left the Golden Gate for parts more interesting. The alternative of taking telephoto photos of couples walking in wind jackets on the icy beach was even more boring than just standing around being bored.

A group of people in their 20s came by and asked, as groups of carefree happy people in their 20s often do upon seeing a tired looking 40 year old guy set up with a tripod and an impressively large white lens, "Would you take our picture with the bridge in the background?" Sure, no problem, I took three okay photos with their point and shoot, and then one of them asked was I there photographing the big ship? No, I missed it, grumble, my bus driver got lost, grumble, et cetera. "Well I think it's still out there; it sailed around Angel Island and then came back."

I really couldn't see a thing - Belvedere (where the yacht was to be moored) was 4-5 miles away, and although it was a reasonably clear day there was still some haze. Even an immense ship with sails over 190 feet high looks pretty small at that distance. Not obvious to the naked eye unless you know what you're looking for. But after some searching ... I thought I saw something ... and even though they look like photos from a beached spy satellite, I did get a few snaps of the Maltese Falcon.

But wait ... that's not the end ...

Cash Passengers the Wrong Way and the Right Way

So on the day when I met Greg Dewar a couple of weekends ago, we were both riding the N inbound on a sunny Saturday. It was a fairly busy day and the N was about 20 minutes late (I called 311 to complain while I was waiting). By the time we got into Cole Valley we had stopped for a couple of wheelchairs and had also no doubt picked up a number of cash passengers (being a sunny weekend day and all). Greg and I were in the second car, however, and although there were a few standees it was nothing approaching full.

To my surprise, the operator closed the doors pulled away leaving a dozen or so people standing. He announced, "There's another train right behind us," which means only, "There's another train. Today." And from that point he passed up most of the passengers who would have paid cash, between Cole Valley and the Market Street tunnel - all the while with room for 50-100 passengers in his second car. So I called 311 again.

I was on an inbound N this past Saturday around 11AM - during Outside Lands - and we had the same situation, but with a huge number of cash fares. So when we got to Cole Valley, I started hearing "didididididi shing BEEP! dididididi BEEP! didididid shing BEEP!" faintly over the PA. Apparently the mike was open and I was hearing zillions of cash passengers boarding. Then, after a little delay, people bearing transfers began to trickle into the rear car. Yes, the operator was letting people board and pay, and then asking them to move to the rear car. This repeated for the rest of the surface stops until we entered the tunnel with a full load and hadn't passed up a single passenger.

Almost like he was trying to get everyone where they wanted to go.

Weird, huh?

Stupid Passenger Grouch

How is it that regular riders on a half dozen consecutive stops today couldn't manage to operate the rear doors on an Orion hybrid?

Stupid passenger: "Back door!" Bangs on door. Door doesn't open.

Adjacent passenger: "Just hold your hand there." Door opens.

Next stop.

Stupid passenger #2: "Back door! The back door won't open!" Bangs on door. Door doesn't open.

Adjacent passenger: "Put your hand on it." Door opens.

Next stop.

Stupid passenger #3: "Back door! Open the back door!" Bangs on door. Door doesn't open.

Adjacent passenger: "It won't open if you bang on it. Hold your hand there."

And so on.

Muni was, of course, foolish in calculating that Muni riders would be intelligent enough to operate an assortment of door opening mechanisms. But then again, a rat would have no difficulty learning to operate two different types of doors as long as it received a sufficient stimulation of its reward center upon success. So what is it going to take to straighten out these otherwise high-functioning* passengers? Do we need to install hoppers of food pellets at bus stops?

Good news: Today's driver filled up the bus.

*Remember, what "high-functioning" means to psychologists and behavioralists is more along the lines of "generally does not drop trou in meetings" than "got Ph.D. at age of 16."

You Were Ronstadted (We Blew by You)

Another fine morning of pass-ups on the 29 - we didn't stop for or pick up a single passenger, again, between 19th & Holloway and Ocean & Plymouth. At least today the bus was mostly full.

You Don't See This Every Day

In fact you don't see this every year. (Click on the photo to see it larger and more clearly.)

Can someone explain to me what exactly is wrong with bringing a bicycle onto an empty train?

The operator, by the way, was "Major Transfer Point Guy." I don't know if he saw the bike come on or not but regardless he's still one of my most favorite N Judah operators.

If you're curious, the photo was taken with my new Horizon Perfekt.

Grouch Is Back in Session

Now that City College is back in session, the 29 Sunset can start passing up passengers again. Today our driver passed up about 20 people between 19th and Ocean. Not so much a shock except that not only was there room for at least 10 standees in the back of the bus (the aisle was empty) but there were even empty seats in the back.

As I was getting off at Ocean I stopped to tell him: Hey, there were empty seats in the back and you had room for at least 10 more standees. His response:

"I couldn't see."

Well, pardon me, but he never said a word during the whole 35 minute trip, except for "Exit to the front," once, when a passenger was having difficulty opening the rear door. (The door was refusing to open the whole time.) When his bus was filling up he didn't say "Move to the rear." Does he think there's something special about his bus, that his passengers automatically pack the rear of the bus first? And what excuse does he have for not getting up to check that his bus is full before he calls in saying he is full?

Lame.

The passengers who alight on the hill between 19th and Ocean are about fifty percent elderly. No doubt they enjoyed watching the bus go by, and their subsequent ten minute wait for the next chance to get a ride. It's no big shock to them though; it happens all the time.

Yup, the Grouch is back.