Be Careful on Public Transit. You May Write A Novel.
These people are enjoying the art of crushing other people into the walls of a train. See the guy with his shirt off? That’s how you know it’s an art.
If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to be a sardine, I suggest you try riding San Francisco’s MUNI during rush hour. You will not only rub shoulders with a few of the more expensive oil-packed sardines, but also some ripe smoked oysters. If you enjoy the ambience of the DMV, the sticky floors of a movie theatre, and being trampled in a stage rush during a music festival, then I think a ride on MUNI between 8:00 and 9:00 AM, or 5:00 and 6:00 PM will be a real treat for you.
If you can’t read lips, I’ll give you a hint. The people on the platform are saying “No f***ing way I’m getting on that train.”
Of course, I haven’t been on a MUNI train after the pandemic began since it sounds like an absolute guarantee of catching COVID. But before the end-times came, I rode a train downtown 5 days a week. When I first moved to San Francisco in 2005, MUNI was one of those quirky and oddly endearing things you can love, like your dear Aunt Matilda’s hairy mole, or the way a good Camembert smells like week-old undies. After living in Atlanta where owning and driving your own car was a necessity, riding a train that someone else drove and getting to experience real San Franciscans in their natural habitat was something I relished.
Now fast forward to 2012 after having children. The MUNI train became a dark place. Instead of jumping on the train at 7:00 AM and having plenty of time to get to work by 9:00, I had waiting for the nanny or preschool drop-off, which meant I didn’t get on the train until 8:00. Instead of hanging around at work until the stations cleared out a bit, I had to be on the train by 5:00 to pick up the little ones before the preschool charged me a dollar for every minute I was late. On top of all that stress, these were peak hours for MUNI crowds, meaning I was probably going to be crushed against a wall, or spend twenty-five minutes with my face pressed into someone’s armpit until we rolled into West Portal Station.
I don’t know if anyone’s told you this, but the phrase ‘sleeping like a baby’ was actually coined by someone who had never met an actual baby. I know it’s a surprise. Some babies, it turns out, are quite fond of waking you up at two or three in the morning for the first few years of their lives just to show you who’s boss. A funny thing happens when you lose a lot of sleep. Being rational doesn’t come as easy. That and the fact that during rush hour, the MUNI trains would frequently stop in the middle of tunnels for several minutes and the power would go out meant that I started suffering panic attacks on my commute. When I’d arrive at my station, I’d be white as a ghost, shaking, drenched in cold sweat, and I would get out of the station as fast as I could just to breathe “"fresh” air. Sometimes, if the delays were really bad, I wouldn’t even complete my ride. I’d get out at the first station and pay an extra $20 for a cab, just so I wouldn’t have to deal with the nightmare.
Look at the woman’s face reacting to the dude that just stepped on. He’s saying, “Oh, wow. I guess there are no seats left.” She’s saying “No sh**. You’re not from around here.”
I remember confiding to a co-worker about the panic attacks one day. She said something like “You know, these days, they have these great things called smartphones. Don’t you think you could try just getting your mind off it and play a game or read or something?”
What great advice. I tried it and found I wasn’t so focused on the stops and blackouts as long as whatever I did on my phone was engaging. Since cellular signals are very spotty in the tunnels, I had to choose something I could download in case the internet wasn’t available. Books were a great option.
In the span of the next year, I read all the books I had always wanted to read, but never had the time. I read White Fang, Dracula, Murder on the Orient Express, The DaVinci Code, the whole Harry Potter series and a lot more.
I also started to read nonfiction books about things I’d always wanted to know. How do you write a good joke? How do you write a sitcom? How do you write a movie?
That last one was what did it. I decided rather than just reading, what if I tried using my phone to write something. I would try and write a movie for fun. It’s only about 120 pages and it’s double-spaced. How hard could it be?
The movie I wrote on the train eventually became Day of the Devourer. Once I figured out my chances of selling my script to Hollywood were as about as slim as selling my garbage to a landfill, I decided to turn it into a novel.
So be careful when you ride MUNI, friends and remember to wash your hands or you may be infected by an idea for your breakout novel.
