IF YOU FROM THE BAY MAINLY FRISCO THE TESTIMONYS ARE HELLA FUNNY:
http://www.virtualtourist.com/trave...angers-San_Francisco-Areas_to_Avoid-BR-7.html
By janeaus on July 2, 2004
I had known that I would probably pass through some rough ‘hoods on the way South out of the City. I got on the bus because thinking of my destination – the safe Westlake District in Daly City – was like seeing the light in the end of the tunnel. I was prepared to weather a rough ride as long as I knew I’d end up in a safe place. Now things turned awry. I was moving deeper into unwelcoming neighborhoods, and there was no way out. I felt that chilly feeling in my stomach.
The bus driver, a staunch black woman, advised me to change to bus 15 to get to the closest BART station (Balboa Park.) She said she’d let me know. She seemed to be friendly, but because of her unfamiliar accent, I wasn’t 100% sure I understood everything she said. But I had a solution now, and it was calming.
I returned to my seat next to the driver’s compartment and stared into the window. I was in control of my fear, following the golden rule No. 1: Don’t Let On. Then I thought of an alternative solution: why don’t I catch the same bus in the opposite direction? If I’m lucky, I’d be able to jump from bus, minimizing the wait on San Bruno Avenue. At the next stop I saw a 9 pulling up in the opposite direction. I went for my alternative, darting out the door, across the avenue… only to see the bus pulling off. I waved at the driver energetically, but he pretended not to see me, leaving me alone on the sidewalk.
It was terrible, as if the last straw was taken away from a drowning man. The street had open businesses – not the worst scenario – but it was seedy, even in that bright afternoon. A gas station, a freeway entrance… I knew very well that I didn’t belong. That was a very uncomfortable feeling. Stay or go towards the next bus??
All those thoughts flashed through my head in seconds, interrupted by a honk. Yes, my driver was calling me! I rushed back into my bus. “It’ll be faster on the 15,” she said. I nodded, thinking “Ma’am, yes ma’am! How grateful I am to you for saving me!”
In a couple of stops she told me to get off and showed the stop (just across the street) where I was supposed to wait for the 15. The neighborhood was as rough as the gas station before. “Here’s your transfer!” – “I got one. Thank you so much!”
Several people were waiting at the bus stop. I glanced at them briefly. Golden rule #2: Don’t Stare. “Forget whites, but these folks are multiracial – a mix of Asians, Africans, and possibly Hispanics – that’s good!” Even better, the #15 appeared almost right away. But I still was very nervous. And, you know, being nervous for a while doesn’t help your nerves. I was fumbling through my backpack for the transfer I knew I had – and couldn’t find it. The bus opened the door and I still did not have the transfer. I just didn’t have the inner strength to say to the driver that I had the transfer somewhere, so could he wait a bit? It was terribly important to get on the bus. So I pulled a dollar out of my wallet and a quarter out of my pocket.
I took my seat and quickly found the transfer. There was something humiliating about the $1.25. It felt bad. I was glad it was all hidden inside me.
The next neighborhood was a poor Asian one, not particularly dangerous. I lifted my guards a bit. “She said it was just a 20-minute ride. It’ll be OK.” The bus made a couple of sharp turns, gradually descending the hill towards the gray compound of Cow Palace.
By MightyB on February 24, 2006
DON'T GO TO... Hunter's Point... Trust me, I spent a lot of my life living there. I was the only white boy in my building. TRUST ME THOUGH, WHITE OR BLACK, don't go there day or night. As far as the tenderloin goes... it's not THAT bad. It's just not somewhere you would want to go sightseeing.
By Iamhungry on February 20, 2006
Please listen to this advice, what ever you do beware of the gangs in San francisco!! If you can, stay out of the Mission District!!! there are several hispanic gangs there who have known to shoot or stab people for wearing the wrong color!! this is not propaganda I had a freind who was visiting for a week, and ended up in the hospital for a month because he got stabbed in the Mission district (only for being hispanic and wearing the wrong shirt) If you are hispanic try not to wear anything that is red or blue, there are two Mexican gangs who are constantly fighting with each other and you dont want to be mistakin for either of them!! One gang is the Nortenos and they wear red, the other are Surenos and they wear blue. Nortenos usually are hispanic and have longer hair or pony tails, and Surenos usually have shaved heads, this is not a joke! San Francisco is a very liberal city which means that they are not big on harsh punishment for criminals, Judges there let gangmembers out of jail for serious crimes, so many of these thugs are walking the streets, I am not trying to scare you San Fran is a great place to visit, just use common sense!!
http://www.virtualtourist.com/trave...angers-San_Francisco-Areas_to_Avoid-BR-7.html
By janeaus on July 2, 2004
I had known that I would probably pass through some rough ‘hoods on the way South out of the City. I got on the bus because thinking of my destination – the safe Westlake District in Daly City – was like seeing the light in the end of the tunnel. I was prepared to weather a rough ride as long as I knew I’d end up in a safe place. Now things turned awry. I was moving deeper into unwelcoming neighborhoods, and there was no way out. I felt that chilly feeling in my stomach.
The bus driver, a staunch black woman, advised me to change to bus 15 to get to the closest BART station (Balboa Park.) She said she’d let me know. She seemed to be friendly, but because of her unfamiliar accent, I wasn’t 100% sure I understood everything she said. But I had a solution now, and it was calming.
I returned to my seat next to the driver’s compartment and stared into the window. I was in control of my fear, following the golden rule No. 1: Don’t Let On. Then I thought of an alternative solution: why don’t I catch the same bus in the opposite direction? If I’m lucky, I’d be able to jump from bus, minimizing the wait on San Bruno Avenue. At the next stop I saw a 9 pulling up in the opposite direction. I went for my alternative, darting out the door, across the avenue… only to see the bus pulling off. I waved at the driver energetically, but he pretended not to see me, leaving me alone on the sidewalk.
It was terrible, as if the last straw was taken away from a drowning man. The street had open businesses – not the worst scenario – but it was seedy, even in that bright afternoon. A gas station, a freeway entrance… I knew very well that I didn’t belong. That was a very uncomfortable feeling. Stay or go towards the next bus??
All those thoughts flashed through my head in seconds, interrupted by a honk. Yes, my driver was calling me! I rushed back into my bus. “It’ll be faster on the 15,” she said. I nodded, thinking “Ma’am, yes ma’am! How grateful I am to you for saving me!”
In a couple of stops she told me to get off and showed the stop (just across the street) where I was supposed to wait for the 15. The neighborhood was as rough as the gas station before. “Here’s your transfer!” – “I got one. Thank you so much!”
Several people were waiting at the bus stop. I glanced at them briefly. Golden rule #2: Don’t Stare. “Forget whites, but these folks are multiracial – a mix of Asians, Africans, and possibly Hispanics – that’s good!” Even better, the #15 appeared almost right away. But I still was very nervous. And, you know, being nervous for a while doesn’t help your nerves. I was fumbling through my backpack for the transfer I knew I had – and couldn’t find it. The bus opened the door and I still did not have the transfer. I just didn’t have the inner strength to say to the driver that I had the transfer somewhere, so could he wait a bit? It was terribly important to get on the bus. So I pulled a dollar out of my wallet and a quarter out of my pocket.
I took my seat and quickly found the transfer. There was something humiliating about the $1.25. It felt bad. I was glad it was all hidden inside me.
The next neighborhood was a poor Asian one, not particularly dangerous. I lifted my guards a bit. “She said it was just a 20-minute ride. It’ll be OK.” The bus made a couple of sharp turns, gradually descending the hill towards the gray compound of Cow Palace.
By MightyB on February 24, 2006
DON'T GO TO... Hunter's Point... Trust me, I spent a lot of my life living there. I was the only white boy in my building. TRUST ME THOUGH, WHITE OR BLACK, don't go there day or night. As far as the tenderloin goes... it's not THAT bad. It's just not somewhere you would want to go sightseeing.
By Iamhungry on February 20, 2006
Please listen to this advice, what ever you do beware of the gangs in San francisco!! If you can, stay out of the Mission District!!! there are several hispanic gangs there who have known to shoot or stab people for wearing the wrong color!! this is not propaganda I had a freind who was visiting for a week, and ended up in the hospital for a month because he got stabbed in the Mission district (only for being hispanic and wearing the wrong shirt) If you are hispanic try not to wear anything that is red or blue, there are two Mexican gangs who are constantly fighting with each other and you dont want to be mistakin for either of them!! One gang is the Nortenos and they wear red, the other are Surenos and they wear blue. Nortenos usually are hispanic and have longer hair or pony tails, and Surenos usually have shaved heads, this is not a joke! San Francisco is a very liberal city which means that they are not big on harsh punishment for criminals, Judges there let gangmembers out of jail for serious crimes, so many of these thugs are walking the streets, I am not trying to scare you San Fran is a great place to visit, just use common sense!!
