F - Market & Wharves

Line: F – Market & Wharves, Inbound
Date: March 2, 2008
Weather Conditions: Warm & Sunny

Time: 11:30 a.m.
First Stop: 17^th & Castro

I rush up the street from 18^th. I’m thankful that the streetcar is there and pause to get my bearings. I can see that the streetcar says it’s going to Fisherman’s Wharf but I decide to err on the side of idiocy/safety and ask, “Does this go to Fisherman’s Wharf?”

The driver closes the streetcar doors and says, “Yup, all the way to the end. I’ll be right back, I have to go to the bathroom.” He darts across the street towards the Chevron station.

I think I’ve been on the streetcar once. The most I know about them is that they were made in Italy. I don’t know how or why they’re here. (I do now.)

The driver comes back and lets me on first. I decide to sit in the middle, opposite the back door. The seats are green leather, like on a school bus, and the inside is well-lit.

Classiest public transportation vehicle, ever.

Not that MUNI is ever very quick, but it seems that the streetcar is especially slow. It feels jerky and there is a lot of traffic around us. Where is everyone is going?

There are two men sitting together a few seats in front of me. One of them gets on his phone and starts talking loudly. “Hey Sean! How are you? We’re in the Castro on this sunshine-y day!”

The noise of the streetcar makes it hard on my geriatric hearing to hear the rest of the conversation. Instead, I start to listen to the wheels clanking with the metal rail. It continues to be traffic-y and we pass Beck’s Motor Lodge. I wonder if it’s a popular place to stay. (Apparently not.)

Time: 11:37 a.m.
Stop: 15^th & Castro

A tall middle aged woman with long curly hair dyed orange-red gets on with her dog. I resist the urge to pet the dog. I get the feeling it is a boy dog and it looks like a mutt, with patches of brown, black and white, mixed with some gray hairs. Not attractive. She sits two seats behind me and lets the mutt have the window seat. She starts speaking unintelligibly to the dog in baby-dog speak. I turn around to look; the dog isn’t paying attention to her, he’s waving his tail and slobbering on the window instead.

This is the new Mint, the old one is on 5th and Mission.

Also, we pass the Mint, not the hit or miss karaoke bar, but the place where they make money. The website says they no longer circulate money and do not allow visitors, but it seems like they manufacture silver coins.

Time: 11:40 a.m.
Stop: Laguna & Market

Three more people get on. The third person is a slow-moving transient looking man. He has a carnie type vibe; maybe in a past life? He is carrying a tote bag that says “Read, Write, Win!” He plops down in the double seat diagonal to me and takes out two pill containers. I strain to see what they are, no luck, something white. He quickly puts the bottles back into his pocket and pulls a wad of cash out of each pocket. He starts counting. There are lots of ones and fives.

T.C. takes care of some accounting on the streetcar.

I turn around to see what else is going on. A middle aged Asian guy is sitting next to the window a few seats back. Santa Claus on summer vacation is sitting next to him. Santa Claus has on red sunglasses and a red hat. Stylin’. They are too far away for me to hear properly, but it sounds like Santa’s friend is new to the Bay Area. Santa says, “I think you will like it here.” His friend says, “I think I will too.”

Time: 11:44 a.m.
Stop: Market & Van Ness

The driver announces, “Next stop, Van Ness and Market.” A few more people get on. A woman sits in front of me and another sits behind me. I feel slightly paranoid that they might think I’m weird, with my notebook and camera in my lap.

I try to hone my listening in on what’s going on but it’s pretty quiet. Instead I hear jingling coming from the car rails.

While straining to hear, I keep making eye contact with the transient carnie. He waves to me. I wave back. I wonder if I should be participating in my observations, it seems wrong. But whatever, this is my project, I’ll do what I want.

My simple wave opens Pandora’s box. “I’m part of the Grateful Dead, you know. I’m just not on stage right now.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Ehhh, you don’t even know who that is. You’re too young. You’re not even listening. I could tell you about lots of things, Kerouac, but you don’t care.”

He throws his hands at me in defeat. I’m writing furiously trying to capture everything, I need to learn shorthand. He forgets he gave up on me and continues talking. “You know Calamity Jane? She was nothing but a self-promoting adoration thirster!” (Not totally knowing who Calamity Jane was, I pictured her as some sort of Joan Jett type character. Not quite.)

T.C. (Transient Carnie) looks at me and smiles. “If I get anyone to talk to me at all it’s a good thing.” I smile back. I’m captivated by the way his front teeth look like an upside down mountain range. It strains my mind to think about how people lose a half of a tooth. Does it hurt? How do you lose only half?

“You know what I’m up to today?”

“No, what?”

“Well! I’m going to Fifth and Bryant to take a shower. I have this free place to live and one of the great government loopholes, well not great I guess, it’s just a loophole, is that you can’t charge rent unless you have sanitary facilities.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah! I live for free, I just have no bathroom. Nice area, too. Nice two-bedroom in Cole Valley, you know where that is?”

“Yeah, it’s really nice over there.” I see we are at Hyde and Market. People around me are clearly annoyed that I’m talking to T.C. Whatever, he may be loud, but he’s harmless.

T.C. continues, “I’ve lived there for 18 years, nothing’s gonna change now. It’s a pretty good deal.”

“That’s an awesome deal.”

T.C. forgets we are talking about rent and starts pointing at his blue and green tote bag. “You see this? It holds all my stuff.”

“Yeah, I see it’s from L.A. It has a 310 number.”

“Yeah, whatever. I don’t know.” His eyes trail off for a second. He starts cracking up. “I’m going to take a shower right now. I’m going to get off at 5^th and Market and walk that-a-way.” He motions south. “I know I have to travel to use the shower, but I don’t mind. You need to have an adventure every day. That’s what’s most important. So I like traveling to get to the shower. I get to go on an adventure!”

Suddenly I notice we’re at 7^th and Market, lots of people get on, including an old Indian woman with pretty purple and white flowers. Despite the chaos, T.C. keeps talking. “This is my big adventure of the day—going downtown to take a shower. You know what? I moved here and I made beautiful art and music. But you know what I learned? Guess what?! You get bored, you gotta have adventure!

Time: 11:52
Stop: 5^th and Market

“Upsey daisy! This is me!” T.C. tries to hop up. He keeps saying “Upsey daisy” over and over before looking at me and clarifying, “Upsey daisy, that means (something I can’t understand) in rock ‘n’ roll!” He exits. I guess I’ll never know. I look around. Everyone hates me. Oh well.

More people have come aboard. A young guy stands next to me, speaking an Asian language I can’t distinguish. There are so many people on board that I can’t see the back door anymore.

While waiting for the streetcar to move I watched people play chess.

We start moving. I look out the window. We pass shoe stores; we stop at 4^th and Market. More people get on, the baby across from me starts fussing. Suddenly I notice there are a lot of babies around.

From out of nowhere I hear, “At least there’s someone to get lost with! Not like you! The last time you freaked out when we had to go to the hospital!” The speaker is a 30-something woman with full makeup, sunglasses and a white wrap shirt-black pants getup. She’s talking to a guy who looks like he played college football. I wonder what sort of adventure they went on.

An iBaby sits on the lap of the woman in front of me. (iBaby = baby with an Apple onesie.) Dad says, “That would be a great picture.” He holds the stroller between his legs, while Mom tries to maneuver the baby and the baby bag. He finally grabs the camera and tries to take a picture while still holding the stroller in his knees. Mom grabs the stroller in one hand and shifts the baby with the other arm. The picture looks stupid. I intercede. “Here, I can hold the stroller.”

“Oh, my gosh, thank you so much,” says Mom. “Smile, sweetie.” The baby does his best not to look bored. Snap! “Sweetie, say thank you, say thank you for holding the stroller!” The baby extends his hand towards me. We shake. The baby giggles. Seats open up in the back so they move. Asian teenage tourists take their spot and start posing and taking pictures.

I guess it's never too early to iNdoctrinate your child.

Time: 12:00 p.m.
Stop: Pine & Davis

The bus is still crowded. I notice that it is actually only cramped around the middle, it is clear in the back and the front. There is a group of teenagers near me. One girl with long black curly hair is chewing her gum loudly and says, “I like this bus. It’s tight!” She and her boyfriend start making out. Gross.

The Asian tourists in front of me are still holding a photo shoot. The girl in the seat ahead of me makes a pouty face and takes an outstretch arm self picture. I maneuver my head to be in the shot. She checks the picture on the viewfinder. Success!

Time: 12:05 p.m.
Stop: Steuart & Mission

More people get on and the car feels cramped. Out of nowhere I’m starving. We’re almost near the Ferry Building.
.

Or ELSE!

We pass the Ferry Building. People “ooooh” and “ahhh” and say things like, “What is THAT?” On the left, we are passing the park by Embarcadero Center. The pouty face girl in front of me gasps and in broken English says, “It looks like Central Park!” I love tourists.

I'm not sure about Central Park.

Time: 12:08 p.m.
Stop: No stop

The streetcar starts picking up speed. We are racing to the Wharf! A girl stands next to me. I have my notebook poised towards the window so she can’t see what I’m writing. I feel incredibly creepy and secretive and weird. Someone says, “Where’s Alcatraz?”

Time: 12:13 p.m.
Stop: Pier 39

We start inching up on Fisherman’s Wharf. The director of The Pouty Face Photo shoot says, “Next one!” Pouty Face seems anxious. “I hope so," she says. We stop, the doors open. I hear shrieking and, “Ooooh! We’re here!” I wonder if Fisherman’s Wharf is like the Eiffel Tower of San Francisco. If so, that’s kind of sad. I hear a keyboard and a saxophone. The doors close. Onwards. There are now only 11 people on board, including me and the driver. We continue speeding down the street. We get to Jefferson and Taylor and the driver announces, “Last stop, everyone out!” I gather up my stuff and am the last to exit.

People lining up for the ride outbound.

After I got off I hightailed it to In-N-Out and then walked down to Aquatic Park. I sat down to eat but then I saw a pirate ship! THE pirate ship! I saw it the other day from work and got very distracted and excited. All in all, a solid adventure.

Land ho!

Total Time: 45 minutes (approx.)
How I got there: 5 to 33
How I bounced: 47 to 31
Where can you see more? HERE.