Occasionally, I'll glide down the escalators at a Bart (or Muni) station, and hop on a lightweight rail to avoid city-wide bustling street traffic that erupts at the crack of dawn each day.
In many respects, the journey beneath Market street can be just as hectic - if not more so - than the one over the obstacle-fraught terrain above ground.
Although regular trains zip in-and-out of local stations every few minutes - maneuvering through the crush of commuters at rush-hour - still requires quite a bit of travel savvy and painstaking skill.
Doesn't anyone drive to work these days?
On the underground in San Francisco - a keen observer wouldn't think so - judging by the teaming masses hauling ass every morning in the tunnels at Bart and Muni without fail.
The problems, if any, don't arise from any misbehaviour on the part of the commuters, though.
Frankly, I've never encountered such a well-mannered posse of city travellers, clawing their way through the concrete jungle to and from work each day with such little aggravation.
By the time the miniature trains roar into the station, they've managed to politely queue up, with very little fanfare or upset.
And, they're downright civilized to each other, too.
In spite of the foregoing, the train embarkment phase, still requires a little strain and effort just before the doors slam shut.
Today, as a few stragglers attempted to squeeze into the last square inch of stuffy space, I envisioned efficient-minded Mayor Newsom importing a gang of train attendants from Japan to ceremoniously pack in a dangling arm or protruding butt to ensure the automated door slid closed quickly and without mishap.
Unpacking 'em at the other end, may require a sturdy sardine key, though.
Amen!
Japan trains packed in like Sardines!
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