The other night I was sitting at home when I got a text from my friend Nivek* saying, “Hey wanna come to my friends house to watch movies and drink $3,000 worth of booze purchased with food stamps?” Naturally I was all like fuuuuck yeah! and I definitely did not let the fact that I’d just eaten an entire weed truffle get in my way.
Since it was raining, I left my two-wheeled not-a-car in the garage and headed out to catch the 33 Stanyan to the Mission. After a few minutes of waiting, the bus got to the top of the hill, and then stood there stopped for almost 10 minutes, which I thought was kind of bizarre. I could’ve just walked up there, but you know the second you start walking is when the bus starts moving, so I just stayed put and let myself get slowly soaked. Plus, I was trying to make a fun stoner game of counting how many drops of water landed on my head and I wanted to break my high score of 17.
Finally, the bus crept down the hill, I got on, and everything was going great for about the next 45 seconds. Then we got to the next stop and I hear the bus driver say “Don’t worry now, we’ll get you off here somehow.” Wait, what?
The doors of the bus are broken. They won’t open. The bus driver keeps restarting the bus and messing with the doors and oh my god we are trapped on this bus because the doors won’t open! It was sort of like being in a real life version of R. Kelly’s Trapped In The Closet, except instead of being trapped in a closet, I was trapped in a traveling metal fart coffin full of judgmental strangers.
This is about when I started to feel the effects of the marijuana food I’d consumed earlier. That’s right–I was high off the medicinal marijuana that was prescribed to me by a doctor to treat my anorexia. So there I was, suddenly high as fuck, and I could not stop laughing at the utter ridiculousness of the situation.
Everyone was staring at me because, as far as bus crowds go, this was a pretty clean, sane crowd. You know if you can’t spot the weirdo on Muni that means it’s you, and it definitely was me this time since I was sitting there cackling uncontrollably to myself while everyone else was pissed off about being stuck on a bus. It was me getting all the stares.
Now freshly paranoid about everyone looking at me like I’m seriously unhinged, I pretended to look at my phone so they would think I was laughing at something on there. It didn’t really work though because as I texted people about my crazy bus debacle, I kept thinking of more and more crazy potential outcomes of this situation. What if we run out of air before the bus mechanic arrives? What if someone goes crazy and tries to kill us all? WHAT IF THERE'S AN ORGY - that would be hilarious for the bewildered swamp of people huddled in the bus shelter!
Finally, after 25 minutes of wizardy, the driver somehow magically fixed the bus doors, and we got to wait another 10 minutes for the next 33 to arrive. It took me a total of an hour and fifteen minutes to reach my destination, most of which was spent trapped on a broken bus a mere 3 blocks from my warm, dry, snack-filled apartment.
I got off the bus, crossed the street, and got on the next 33 back to my house. That bus broke down as well. I walked the rest of the way home, made myself 27 goat cheese crostinis and ate them in bed.
This has been a story about the least crazy thing that has ever happened to me on Muni.