Muni Memories #2 – Addendum

A number of people (that number being two) have expressed a burning desire to know more about my experience riding the 14 Mission - the passengers, the crabs being eaten alive (and recklessly shucked to the floor, still kicking), and their eaters.

The thing is, as I said before, a Muni story doesn’t always have a neat, tidy ending. Sometimes, you reach your stop while a story is still in progress. Sometimes, the stories get off the bus while you’re still riding. And sometimes, the stories just fizzle out or fade away.

Here are some examples of how a Muni story might end:

1. And then I got off the bus.


2. She apparently had no idea what she'd just sat upon. And although I wanted so badly to see what happened when she stood up, she was still seated when I reached my stop.


3. The oblivious performer continued his impromptu striptease as I stepped off the bus. Just before the doors closed behind me, I heard someone shout, “Oh my god! I’ve never seen such a…”


4. The passenger pulled the cord and exited at the next stop. Alas, the chirping sound coming from deep within his mountain of dreadlocks would forever be a mystery.


5. As the driver phoned the police, the elderly Jewish man continued to taunt the young Palestinian, shouting, “Come on, bitch! I’ll F- you up, big time!” I decided to take a different bus.


6. We sat in silence for the rest of the journey, each of us no doubt quietly praying that the pool of liquid would not flow in our direction.

So it was with the crab story. I sat there, not saying a word, not looking up, but simply staring with sick fascination, unable to take my eyes off of the still-moving fourth-of-a-crab that had landed between my feet. It had landed on what was left of its back, if you’re curious. And I think, if it had landed otherwise, the two attached legs might very well have begun to drag its disembodied remains across the floor, perhaps away from me, but maybe up my pant leg. Luckily, it was on its back.

As flabbergasted as I was to have witnessed the eating of two live animals, while being struck by a flying piece of one, it’s possible that the chucker of said crab chunk was just as flummoxed by my (lack of) response. I mean, I just sat there looking down at his food/pet. He might have thought, “Gosh, what’s with that guy just sitting there looking at my crab? He doesn’t even have the courtesy to pick it up and hand it back to me? Now he just touched it with his boot! That’s disgusting! I can’t eat that now!”

I did not have the courtesy, you see, to pick up the twitching partial crab carcass and hand it back to him. I was extremely inconsiderate, in fact. Not only did I just sit there, hoarding a chunk of his delicious pet, but I touched it with my filthy boot, which has been in direct contact with all sorts of vile disgusting surfaces, the floor of a Muni bus among them.

For such a crowded bus, the rest of the ride was oddly quiet, probably because everyone was staring in shock at how impolite I was being just sitting there staring at a piece of that man’s tasty companion between my legs, not even offering it back to him. But I didn’t look up, so I don’t know for sure. When the bus reached 4th St., I stood up and left the crab, and its eaters, behind.

Moments later, someone else got on the bus and undoubtedly took my seat. I wonder what they thought when they looked down. That’s where their story begins. Mine ends here.