“Holy shit, the 37 is real.”
Cryptozoologists hate this one trick. Put down the burrito and walk with purpose.
Muni times on your Home Screen and Lock Screen. Emotional support included.
Departure boards give you a number. We give you a number and an honest opinion about it.
“Holy shit, the 37 is real.”
Cryptozoologists hate this one trick. Put down the burrito and walk with purpose.
“Stay put, lazy bastard.”
Not enough time for anything, too much time to stand there with dignity. Scroll the app. That's what it's for.
“Make coffee. Reconsider your life.”
Pour-over takes four. That leaves eight for an existential crisis. Plenty.
“Walking is starting to look attractive.”
The hill says no. Your legs say no. The 37 also says no, just more slowly.
“Schrödinger's 37: both coming and not coming.”
Until you look at the street, every bus exists in a superposition of on-time and cancelled.
“The 37 has entered the witness protection program.”
New name, new route, new life. We wish it well. We'd also like it to come back.
Pick any line and stop. Get live arrivals, a map of where the bus actually is, and widgets that judge your commute without you unlocking your phone.
Watch a little red dot not move, in real time.
Be let down without even unlocking your phone.
Curate your suffering. Drag to reorder it.
Buses, streetcars, the Metro. Not just the 37. The 37 is just the most emotionally available.
We don't know who you are. We only know you're waiting.
Live predictions from 511.org, as fresh as Muni's own data allows.
The 37 isn't late because Muni is bad. The 37 is late because it has to climb Twin Peaks, twice, like a Sisyphus with a fare box. So every cent you pay goes straight into an aggressive lobbying campaign to get rid of the hills. No hills, no waiting. It's just physics.