Dear Nathaniel Ford - The Silence of the Driver Edition

Dear Nathaniel Ford,

Today I got into Powell Station to find an L sitting there with all the doors closed. The train was not quite full, so I was exasperated. Then I noticed that the door in the very front was still open. I rushed up and got on the train. Hooray! No wait.

Oops. Wait. The front door stayed open. All the other doors stayed closed. We stayed put.

Finally, the door closed and we were on our way.

At Civic Center, some passengers got off, more got on. The doors closed. Then the ones in the middle opened. And we sat there. It was during that three minute wait that I decided that tonight, really, I would begin writing to you.

While my fellow passengers muttered and swore, I began composing my theme. "Dear Nathaniel Ford." I fantasized about, one day, getting a response from you. But for not, just writing is enough.

Eventually the middle door closed and we were on our way. Our driver as as silent as a monk who had taken vows. He was a rabbit, or a fish. Not a sound, never mind and explanation, passed through his lips.

You know what would be really nice, Nathaniel?

If Muni drivers simply told passengers what the issue was, and set an expectation. Like when you call PG&E and they say, "The wait is 6 minutes." Sometimes the wait is two minutes; sometimes it's 10. But just that voice makes the customer feel better.

Why is it that some drivers are regular Chatty Cathys and some are as silent as a snowfall?

That's what I'm wondering, Nathaniel Ford.