A Magnificent Misadventure

It’s been kinda frantic recently since i’ve been in a bit of a social whirl and have a house guest and broke a tooth out of my upper plate chomping down a little too vigorously on one of Cipponeri Family Farms’ Natural Sesame Glazed Almonds the other day, so on Monday i took the plate in for repair to my dentist and talented prosthesis artisan, Dr. Michael Okuji at 450 Sutter.

I was due at his office today at noon to pick it up, so i left home at 11:15 to allow time to stop for photo opportunities and make it a relaxed, leisurely journey. Alas, i got only just beyond 15th Street on Market before the Segway gave a great shudder and went into this electronic meltdown like it did last Friday and from which it did not recover for three days.

No problem, i thought rapidly, i’ll just chain the paralyzed Segway to a parking meter and jump onto Muni at the Church Street Station down the block. Somehow, though, the trip turned into a nightmare misadventure since i get confused so easily now and went to the wrong platform and boarded a train headed in the opposite direction. Got out at the Castro Station and reboarded, this time on an inbound train. Got out at the Powell St. Station but had forgot that Stockton was one way toward Market, so i couldn’t jump on a bus or hail a cab and had to walk four agonizing slightly uphill blocks.

Agonizing enough, in fact, that by the time i got to Sutter Street i was so addled that i thought i was at Post (which i’d already crossed), and then saw that Stockton disappeared into its tunnel and figured i’d need to get up to the next level by going diagonally across the street into the parking garage and riding the elevator up a level and then exiting on the far side. I’ve known for forty years that the name of that garage is the Sutter Stockton Garage and that the far side is bounded by Bush, but i said i was addled.

But then i got all turned around in the garage and couldn’t decide where to go and got a little desperate. A kind woman came to my rescue and led me out of the garage where i’d come in and back onto Sutter and pointed me in the right direction to get to 450.

After all that, i was only seven minutes late, and since it was the first time in 25 years, they forgave me.

Getting home was a snap because all i had to do was walk downhill to Market, jump on a train to the Castro Station, and take the 24 Divisadero trolleybus to the top of the hill. Easy.

Well, except that when i got down to the Muni platform a short train whistled in and stopped way down there and i had to do a sort of shuffle/trot to get into it. Collapsed gratefully into a seat and was almost recovered when suddenly the damn train was outside and i knew i’d blundered onto either a Jaycherch or an Enjooda. So i had to get out at Church and Duboce and troop all the way down to Market and wait for an outbound Kingalside, El Taravel, Motionview, or Teetherd.

Oh, and i should mention for the non-San Franciscans that Muni, being devoid of a sense of humor like so many of our modern metropolitan transit authorities, spells the names of its streetcars “J-Church, N-Judah, K-Ingleside, L-Taravel, M-Ocean View, and T-Third”.

But i made it to Castro, and got a 24 to the top of the hill, jumped in my Prius, drove down to where i’d left the Segway, threw it none too gently into the back of the car, and drove over to the Segway repair shop in Oakland.

Where the damned little beast, so terrified that the mechanics were about to violate it with electric anal probes, acted as if nothing was wrong and started up normally. In its hearing, i told the mechanics to keep those probes handy because if the problem happened again, we’d be back.

Meanwhile, there sure has been some interesting signage recently:

not an exit

And then this self portrait:


customers only



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