SF Bike Accidents

This is incredible -- a Google maps mash-up showing all of the bicycle-related traffic accidents in the Bay Area over a ten-year period.

http://www.baycitizen.org/data/bike-accidents/

Check it out!

A Modest Proposal

A friend of mine was explaining to me last night about Portland's honor-based fare-collection system on its public transportation. "They have very few fare collectors, but they're very nice, polite... and very LARGE. They ask you nicely for your pass, and if you won't show it, three or four very large people come and nicely escort you off the train."

This gave me an idea. We have fare collectors in SF, too, and some of them are in fact quite large, and armed. The fines for fare evasion are steep: upwards of $100. Of course, most people don't pay them, since it's just like a traffic ticket, except without a vehicle they can boot.

I have a better system: public shaming, with clowns.

That's right: CLOWNS.


If you don't have a valid ticket, the fare collector sends in the clowns (or clown, or mime), who then PUBLICLY MOCKS you on the train to the other passengers. "Hey, THIS GUY here is riding free! That means ALL OF YOU paid for his ride! Let's give the freeloader a big hand, everybody!" (honks nose)

There are all kinds of benefits: free entertainment on MUNI, employment opportunities for clowns (because underemployed clowns generally turn to prostitution, and that's just disturbing.)

I'd bet fare collections would go through the roof. Nobody likes a public shaming. This is something we abandoned with the stocks, back in Puritan days, and I think it was a grievous mistake.

If the city is afraid of losing revenue from fines, well, they can collect it on the spot: "$100 cash, right now, or I send in the CLOWNS, pal."

I think this is a fabulous idea, and I plan to write to my supervisor, Bevan Dufty, right now to promote it.

If you agree, and you're an SF resident, please do the same!

Back In The Saddle Again

After a six-month hiatus spent mostly hating on the MUNI, I stopped procrastinating, dusted off the bike, and rode in to work this morning. Things are different. So different, I just have to say:

SF, I love you!

The new bike lanes are perfect, the Market St. closure means HUGE numbers of bikers are out, sharing the road with only a few buses, trains, taxis, and the very occasional truck.

It's so crowded, in fact, I had to bust out my best peloton manners, elbow-to-elbow with other riders in the middle of a mob, weaving around parked buses, right-turn lanes, and train tracks. I did see one rider go down after hooking his front tire in a track -- I hate it when I do that.

It's a gorgeous day, and I'm really looking forward to the ride home! MWAH!

Small Consolation

Sign in front of 21st Amendment yesterday: MINER MISTRESSES DRINK FREE.

Probably not worth the price of the flight from Santiago, I'm thinking.

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.

San Francisco, I Love You

Last night, I went to City Arts & Lectures at the Herbst Theatre to hear Maira Kalman and Daniel Handler (Lemony Snicket) talk about their latest book.

I learned that Maira Kalman's living room is full of ladders. Because she loves them.

The girl sitting next to me was wearing lamb ears, and occasionally amusing herself by looking backwards through binoculars at her own hands.

At Q&A time, she asked Daniel Handler whether he thought there was an age at which is was no longer appropriate to go trick-or-treating.

He responded, "This is not from personal experience. I would say that if someone asks you if you're the parent of one of the other children, and you aren't, then you're too old. However, I can't overstate the enjoyment of telling everyone else to go out and have fun, while you stay at home alone with a bowl of candy."

Lautrec in the Lower Haight

Duboce Triangle, 8:30 a.m.

Two young men sprawled on a stone entrance stairway: cruddy black jeans, wallet chains, black waffle stompers. One's in a gray hoodie, the other in a wifebeater and a neon-green furry pimp hat.

They're engaged in a conversation so animated that all four of their hands are deployed, reminding me more than a little of this guy.

Now where the hell was La Goulue?