It was a Wednesday morning and I was waiting for the bus. If you're a nine-to-fiver, you know the drill. Swelling crowds, contending with the inconsistent transit schedule, the oratorical dialogue with the cold foggy air. Will the bus come? Is there a chance in hell you'll actually make it to work on time?

But this Wednesday morning was a different routine with a different set of rules.

I should note from the onset that I've found most MUNI drivers to be kind and helpful. Even when they're near insane, like that crazy guy spouting strange commentary on the 43-Masonic ("Here we are!"), they get the job done.

But there is a troubling group of drivers who not only believe themselves above common courtesy, but above the law. They forget the "public" part of public transportation. Whether stressed by the long hours or a few thugs they had to deal with on an earlier run, they take out their frustrations on the rest of us. And who are we? The taxpayers who pay their salaries, the San Francisco public that depends upon MUNI to get to our jobs.

I encountered one of them that morning.

I boarded the bus as usual, displaying my FastPass to the driver. Now my FastPass is nestled in the transparent window of my wallet. I've done this countless times for MUNI drivers and fare inspectors. There had never been a problem before.

But that morning, as I walked up the steps and showed the driver my FastPass, the driver declared that I hadn't shown it to him. I whipped out my wallet again, moving my wallet about five feet away from him. His eyes, hidden behind sunglasses, had to be locked on the pass.

But the driver once again demanded that I show it to him. I told him that I had already done this twice. He then demanded that I pull the FastPass out of my wallet.

Since the FastPass is lodged tight within my wallet, I couldn't extract it immediately. But I pried my thumb and forefinger into the leather side pocket and slowly worked to wedge it out. This apparently wasn't fast enough. The driver said I would "be sorry" if I didn't remove the FastPass. After about a minute of fluttering fingers, the FastPass was in my palm. I wanted the driver to see my FastPass (since he hadn't seen it the other two times), I moved my arm across the change machine.

The driver jumped back and physically convulsed, as if restraining himself from assaulting me.

"You're invading my personal space!" he shouted. "I'll get you next time, you motherfucker."

Get me for what? "Be sorry" for what? For having the temerity to show him my pass? For being a little slow on the draw with my wallet because this driver's eyes were poor or because he was on edge?

There was no call for this harassment or aggression or profanity. There was no excuse for this abuse of authority. There was absolutely no reason for this driver to let out any aggression on a passenger. Did he not realize, as other MUNI drivers did, of the powers of insouciant charm?

Further, I was troubled by the driver's near violence. This man was on edge and in control of a twelve-ton bus with a busload of people, some of them children. What can a man do in this state? Why is a man like this put on a stressful crosstown line during rush hour? He may have stopped short from hitting me, but who knows if he might snap out at somebody else?

I should note that I was never in the wrong. According to San Francisco Traffic Code Section 127(d):

It shall be unlawful to fail to display a valid fare receipt or transit pass at the request of any authorized representative of the transit system or duly authorized peace officer while on a vehicle or in an area designated as requiring proof of payment.

Nowhere does this section stipulate that "valid fare receipt or transit pass" means taking my pass out of my wallet and being hassled because of it. I "displayed" my transit pass multiple times. And the bus driver overstepped his boundaries by repeatedly asking me for a pass that he had seen twice already.

I didn't appreciate being subjected to verbal and physical aggression or being treated like this. Nobody should have to endure this. I may be a mischievous bastard, but, for the most part, I'm a nonviolent person. Like any morning commuter, I'm just trying to mind my own business, get lost in my book, and head to my job.

I emailed an account of this incident and sent it to MUNI Executive Director Nathaniel Ford, the MTA Board of Directors, Supervisor Ross Mirkarimi, the SFist, and a few MUNI activism sites. I had to ferret out the MTA email addresses through a lot of careful Googling. Because they weren't available on the MUNI website.

And what does this say of MUNI's commitment to fixing its problems? If the average person cannot be in direct touch with the people who set the standards, then how can any reasonable level of reform be effected?

Nevertheless, I was assured by the MTA that they were looking into this. And I haven't seen this driver again.

I also received a reply from Sup. Mirkarimi, noting how he was distressed by how a bus driver's reaction like this might play a role in the larger problems of violence now plaguing the southern and eastern sections of San Francisco.

I think Sup. Mirkarimi is right to suggest this connection, where things begin and are influenced by the manner in which a MUNI driver handles himself. I may have kept my cool, but what if this driver had gone crazy on some mentally maladjusted person with a loaded gun?

If my what-if scenario seems too melodramatic, let’s consider the history of MUNI drivers who have gone over the line.

What causes a MUNI driver like Sarah Benton to race 70 miles per hour into a red Nissan Sentra and then cover it up? We know from an SF Weekly investigative article that alcohol was involved. But we also know that Benton had engaged in similar alcohol abuse and drove buses for years.

We also know that, four years later in 2003, driver Sebastian Garcia sped through a red light through the intersection of Portrero and 24th Street and killed a little girl. It cost the City $27 million. It cost the poor family who lost the girl a lot more. Amazingly, the Chronicle reported that Garcia was still employed by MUNI two years later. Whether he was driving buses or not, who can say?

And what of the driver who barked at me? Does he have to kill someone before anything happens? Even if an unfortunate death occurred, given MUNI's history, I suspect he'd still be driving and falling into the same patterns.

In defense of MUNI drivers, they're up against fastidious dispatchers trying to keep the bus lines rolling on time after pink slips were handed out to 200 drivers in April 2005 to close a $57 million deficit. So drivers become overworked and overstressed and their patience whittles away, and the most troubled drivers resort to drugs, alcohol, or violence to cope.

But, in the end, it's the MUNI passengers who bear the brunt of all this.

Nathaniel Ford declared in an SFist interview that he was proud of the Transit Awareness Project, which, in the TAP's words would "make the service more attractive to the public and more economical to operate" (emphasis added). Would it not be more economical in the long-term to spend money to ensure that enough buses could run to serve the public? Would it not be more economical to create working conditions in which the drivers were not so overworked? Would it not be more economical to save the City paying out $27 million when a driver doesn't pay attention? Would it not be more economical to create a more scrutinizing public agency to thoroughly investigate drivers, so they can get rid of the bad apples who snap?

And to tie this in to Mirkarimi's notion of cause and effect, why is economics at the forefront? What of the issue of public safety? What of violence and anger?

Even if my grievance against the driver is seriously considered, the question that must be asked is whether MUNI is truly capable of investigating the whole of its drivers with any serious scrutiny. The bad apples know very well that they can get away with their behavior, because, with such an understaffed system, MUNI needs every bit of help it can get.

And the passenger still comes last.

Edward Champion is a writer in San Francisco. His blog is Return of the Reluctant.