J'adore MUNI

Watch out, y'all, I'm defying my semi-longstanding tradition of posting once a week and writing twice in one day. Oooooh! And what, may you ask, is inspiring this bold move? Only my seemingly favorite topic: MUNI.

So tonight I boarded the N line, my train, at the end of the line, as far away from my apartment as possible. Did I read the sign on the train? Naturally, no. I'm a wild woman. I laugh in the face of signage. Or something. Ahem.

Crickets.

So, anyway. I boarded my train, selected a seat, and watched in shock and horror as my train pulled away from the station in the wrong direction. People, it's the end of the line! Where does the train go? My pulse was racing, my mind aflutter with the possibility of a hapless end on a runaway streetcar. Moments later, we pulled into the train yard. Surrounded by nothing but sleeping MUNI cars, I made an dash for the exit, only to discover that there was no platform. Five feet (the same size as yours truly) separated me from the ground. As I stood there staring helplessly at the scenario before me, a lone MUNI driver approached.

"Ma'am, didn't you read the sign on the train?"
"No," I meekly replied. "I just climbed aboard, assuming that we'd be going towards my home. I'm really sorry."

He eyed me suspiciously, which I completely understood, knowing the frequency with which small, blonde women hijack empty streetcars. Then, he began laughing.

"Lady, I'll tell you what, I'll drive you home."

He climbed into the streetcar, and invited me into the conductor's booth of the train. I spent the next 45 minutes handing out transfers, giving directions, and learning how to drive a streetcar. In the meantime, he told me stories of moving to San Francisco from Nicaragua in the 60s and driving the MUNI since the 70s. When we arrived at my stop, he sent me off with a smile, a wave, and a personalized honk of the train horn.

Sometimes, I love my life!