Another Muni Fight

Ew!

Bloodlust

Friday, 8:40 a.m., 16th Mission - Union Fillmore

She sat on the steps and said, "I don't understand what is with the bloodlust."

Bus #1 - Four early teens are running down the street. "Stop the bus!! Let us On!" They board.

"Aw, man. I can't believe that! She messed her up good."

Three others are running and the four aboard go to the windows to make fun of them.

"What was with that bitch, all she did was say "Scuse me, can you move back?""

"But, in her defense, she did have a baby in her arms and like six kids with her. She kinda couldn't move back."

"But you don't gotta freak out like that. You can't move back then you just say you can't move back. She wouldda freaked out on me like that I woulda killed a bitch."

Bus #2 - "This woman with like a baby in her arms and then this other chick like wanted her to move back and I don't know. I don't know. I can't take it anymore. I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know how I'm gonna get to work, but I'm over it. I'm just over it. She was like, 'You mess with me I got a baby in my arms.' And I'm all like, "Yeah, awesome Mom, you're fuckin' fighting, literally fighting like pulling hair, while you're holding your baby and all of your other kids are like looking at you fucking frightened. And the little Mexican ladies were freaked. They were like terrified. Yeah, she like messed with her hair and shoved her off the bus. I can't handle it anymore. I'm so over it."

Bus #1 - Three more board. "I didn't think you was gonna catch up!" "Man that was awesome. She messed that girl up! The rest of them didn't make it - they gonna be late."

Bus #3 - "There was a fight and I had to wait for another bus. And I just posted a comment on YouTube about another fight. I don't understand why people are so into it. People on the next bus were all 'Man, I wish I would have been on that bus. I wanna see a fight."

The Spark that Started a Fire That Bore a Blog

Thursday, 3 p.m., Union Fillmore - Haight Fillmore

It was one of those days that you just wanted to shit in your pants and walk around in it.

I boarded.

School had just let out and it was loud. Monsters, jacked-up on sugar and hormones had taken over the back third of the bus. They were like bouncy balls in a circular room, and let's just be honest, they are fucking LOUD. The Deuce Deuce can serve as a daily exercise in meditation. It is so easy there on a mat, in a studio with serene clouds painted on the ceiling, to keep it cool - so easy to swim when the waters are calm.

The noise from the rear is all-consuming, the way sometimes I can only hear squeaking shoes when I watch a basketball game.

I stretch my neck left, then right. I close my eyes and breathe deep.

"FUCK YOU you Fuckin' Busted Ass Whore!"

Inhale, Exhale.

"You the slUt, Ho!"

Inhale, Exhale.

At Geary it gets crowded, it gets sardines.

An elderly man, nearly a foot shorter than me is nestled in, his head pretty much in my armpit.

A pushing match ensues. It's like a PCP Red Bull MTV Spring Break South of the Border Dog fight back there.

I close my eyes.

"AHHHHHHHHHH, Don't grab my titty you busted-ass motherfucker!"

I open my eyes and lay my head back and begin an internal mantra of, "I sold my car for the right reason. I sold my car for the right reason. Not having a car is an ethical choice. Not having a car is an ethical choice. I love this city. I love diversity. I love this city. I love diversity."

And then, I get chucked.

"Move BITCH. This is our stop!"

I get pushed and knock over the little old man I was essentially coddling, who falls to the ground.

I'm helping him up, one of the girls steps on his ankle as they pile over us, pushing through the crowd to the door. My stop too.

I step down.

"Dumb Bitch! Don't just stand there like nobody got any place to go but you!"

And I, my bad, but I, "DO YOU EVER SHUT THE FUCK UP?!"

And what ensued, what was said, we will never know. It was three teenage, female, hyennas and it sounded like, !@%$@^Y&$EHFG$%$ Of FUCKetfwekfnwefwe BITCH worqjwor ME GUNNA fwieohf49hwekrjker9ef I'm about to slap this fuckin'2rf 35r9wrfyhwei9rfw9efjsdofjsdlfjsd!!!!!!!!!!

I started to walk. They followed me.

"I'm gonna get my brother to fucking kill you!"

They followed me for four blocks spouting equally eloquent comments until one said, "Oh you wanna know if I ever shut the fuck up well..."

And I spun around, "NO! I know the answer. It's 'No,' you never shut the fuck up. You haven't shut up since Union Street - so I have my answer, the answer is 'No.' Now go home."

"We are goin' home."

"Oh, awesome. We're neighbors. This way it'll be easier for your brother to kill me. Awesome."

I turned, they turned. I could hear them fade into the distance planning my demise.

I could have stopped riding, but instead I started writing.

-photo compliments of eviloars

Saturday, 9:00 a.m., Haight - Fillmore - Union Fillmore

Sometimes with my headphones up, I will Nestea plunge into a song so whole-heartedly that everything around me seems to move synchronistically and make intrinsic sense the way an anteater's snout is made for eating ants - a choreographed dance of chaos.
I swear if one person had given me a smile I would have sprung from my seat, dipped them back low and laid one on them, rattling beautiful nonsense like, "I know! I know! Going to a dead-end job never felt so good!"
You see, I simply couldn't take my headphones down to hear what was going on on the Deuce Deuce today because this is what was going on for me.

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The Lazy Boy

Friday, 7 p.m., Union Fillmore - 16th Valencia

Last week he was sitting in the four-seaters, 10 maybe 12 years old.

Who knows, the older I get the younger they look. Someone asked me if I didn't know my age how old I would think I was and I told her, "Too old to play pretend."

The teen-year-old, with shiny Nike's that match his ear buds that match his backpack, sits with his feet up taking up two seats.
An older white man, maybe 55 maybe 65, depending on how many wars or divorces and how long he's been riding the Deuce Deuce, approaches and places his hand on the boy's legs.
"Don't you touch me, old man!" the boy pops off.
"I want to sit down, please."
"Ok, but you don't go touchin' my fuckin' legs. You ask me and I'll move."
"I'm sorry. There is no where else to sit."
He sits and the boy murmurs out the window. "Shit, don't be touchin' me. Old motherfucker think you can be touchin' me. I'll fuckin'....."

Tonight, the bus is full.
The teen-year-old is lounging in the very back row, taking up three seats. I walk up to him and look down. He acts like he doesn't see me.
"Really?" I say.
And I grab a pole. I'm in no form to fill an attention deficit.
A Black woman boards, maybe 40 depending how many children and how long she's been riding the Deuce Deuce, and moves to the back of the bus.
She, "Get your damn legs down, boy! I need to sit. What you think this is your damn house? You see a TV in that aisle? People need to sit, we been workin' today. Thinkin' you can just take up the whole damn seat. You should be ashamed a yo'self. This ain't your damn living room! Who's your mother?"

And I think, 'You are.'

-photo compliments of eviloars