Tuesday I waited 40 minutes for the 22 Fillmore, and today I waited 25 minutes.
I'd report it, but I'm sure Muni would just blame an operator shortage and shrug it off.
During Tuesday's wait, the smiley teen and I stood in the bus stop and tried to avoid the dozens of pigeons and seagulls mobbing the food scraps on the street in front of us.
At one point the smiley teen took off her headphones and held her cell phone out to me. "It keeps saying 15 minutes!" she said, and shook her head.
I said, "Yeah, and you and I can't walk all the way, not really," even though I have walked from Fillmore and Geary to Potrero Hill a few times, out of Muni-related necessity.
Eventually a bus showed up, the driver unhurried and unfriendly, and we squished into the bus with at least two other buses' worth of passengers.
It wasn't long before the bus was packed tight, but the driver still stopped at every stop, even though no one else could get in.
At Mission, things emptied out a bit, but not much.
Roche Bobois guy got on and stood a few rows ahead of me, and nodded at me, mouthed 'good morning.'
This morning the bus stop was deserted. Ten minutes in, the construction workers and a skateboarder and a couple other people showed up, and then Mr. Taylor, the world's oldest school crossing guard shuffled in to view.
It is never good when he starts walking to work - it means at least another 10 or 15 minutes until a bus comes.
"Good morning, Rachel," he said, barely slowing his already slow stride. "It's gonna be another 15 minutes, and I can be at work already by then."
"You'll get there way ahead of me," I said. "Have a good day."