You can't spell "Mutiny" without MUNI

I got off at Powell this morning to get some coffee at Blue Bottle. This is because I'm a yuppie, not a hipster.

Returning to the station, I was entertained by buskers performing on, no kidding, alpenhorns.

Then, because I'm an idiot, instead of walking, I tried to ride MUNI one stop, from Powell to Montgomery. It went something like this:

• lurch forward one traincar length.
• lurch to a sudden stop.
• sit there for five minutes.
• lather, rinse, repeat. (OK, not the lather and rinse part.)

This went on until we all died of old age. Then aliens assumed our forms, and also died of old age. Then brain-sucking zombies shambled down the tunnel, broke into the train, ate their corpses, crapped in the aisles, and moved on. All the zombie poops gained sentience, climbed back into the empty clothing, brushed ourselves off, shrugged, and grabbed handrails just in time to lurch into Montgomery station.

None of this would've been so bad, except it was really crowded, and the guy next to me was wearing way too much cologne.

As we escaped the train, the soothing recorded voice thanked us for our patience. Which puzzled me -- what were they expecting us to do, riot? Attempt to hijack the L-Taraval to Cuba? Make all the ship's officers walk the plank? Annex the Sudetenland?

Yes, I know: "So shut up and ride your bike, fucknuts." Tomorrow.