The above photo of the adorable little ones on their way to the Symphony was taken by Flickr user Alie Slavin. The expression on every face pictured is priceless, especially the adults' in the background.

Anyone who's ridden Muni in the middle of a weekday is quite familiar with this scenario. As your bus pulls up to its stop, you see a dozen or two school kids anxiously waiting to embark Muni. You and your fellow passengers groan and brace yourselves for the ensuing chaos. (Mind you, we enjoy the company of kids but not large groups of them in enclosed spaces.) Last Friday morning was our most recent encounter of this kind, and we were inspired to compile all of our of "gangs of kids" on Muni memories. Feel free to share your kid/Muni invasion experiences in the comments!

Friday's ride played out like this: We were riding the 49 along Van Ness, when we were soon invaded by about ten to fifteen 10/11-year-olds. Although we were at the back of the double-bus with no vantage point of the stop, we had a bit of a warning about this invasion when the bus, in the process of pulling up to the stop, was met by the collective, high-pitched screams of several young girls. We were like, oh no, did one of them get run over? Luckily not—they were just excited about the novelty of riding Muni. And maybe the driver looked like Justin Timberlake or Usher? (We can't exactly remember what our driver looked like, but we think he probably looked more like Pat Morita. And by the way, who are the tweens loving these days, anyway?)

More kids invade Muni after the jump!

About six of the aforementioned young girls decided to all congregate in the middle, bendy part of the bus, so that they could scream every time they lost their balance, while at the same time blocking the railings for passengers attempting to get past them. We're not sure which was worse—the prepubescents' ear-piercing screams or the ear-piercing yells of their teenaged chaperones behind us who were telling them to quit screaming. One of the "chaperones" also shouted, "I'm sure these people didn't pay to hear you scream." And we thought to ourselves, "We didn't pay to hear you scream about their screaming either," but we all know it's more than likely futile to try to communicate with power-hungry teenagers on public transit, especially considering we still sometimes get mistaken for a teenager—at age 33. We were soon relieved to be getting off at City Hall to buy our Fast Pass with our first ever commuter check at Room 140. (Until we remembered that security checks your bags at City Hall, and we had two-days worth of dirty yoga clothes stuffed in ours. Embarrassing!)

The most unpleasant circumstances of kids on Muni are when a gaggle of wired and ornery teenagers wreck havoc on the 22 or the 24 when school lets out. We've seen them breaking the "to open door in an emergency" glass on the back door, opening the emergency windows to shriek at their friends on the street, and most annoyingly, pulling the bus cables from their wires. It's best just to walk to your destination at these times.

Elementary school-aged kids on Muni tend to be almost pleasant in comparison. There are usually more of them though, which makes for major claustrophobia issues, especially when their little backpacks that are too big for their bodies keep bumping into you. One time we were on the 43 on the way to Trader Joe's, and a bunch of wee ones came on during a field trip with their teacher. Their destination was a mere four blocks away, and one of the kids said, "We could've walked!" Indeed, the process of getting all of the kids on and then off again probably took about the same amount of time as walking.

We conclude this piece with the most memorable quote we've heard by a young kid during a Muni invasion: "This bus smells like my dad's hair!" Ha, ha, we know exactly what you mean, Kid.