Tuesday, September 13, 2005

This week is turning into a baaad week

Monday I was stuck on the BART train for 45 minutes, then had to go back to the previous station, get off and then get on the next SF cattle car (aka BART car) and then stand for 40 minutes until I got off at my station.

The first indication that something was awry in my car was when almost all the lights went out. The one above me didn't, so I continued to read. Other people weren't so lucky and had to sit in the dark. It's never good when the lights go out. The second indication was the smoke smell. Like an electrical fire. It got pretty stinky at one point, and by this time, we were stopped on the tracks. I took my earbuds out so I could hear what was going on. I always sit in the first car of the train, and the operator sounded like she was having a panic attack in her little closed off box.

I heard the person on the walkie-talkie say, "You better move everyone out of that car." Not again. This happened to me last week too! Everyone in the car had to move to the cars behind them. What generally happens is this: the people from the dead car (as it is called) tend to only move one car back. This causes a huge amount of displaced people back up. The man that was in front of me wanted to keep on keeping on, so I trailed behind him to the third car back, where I quickly found a seat. I was almost ready to get off at the next station and run to a car in the middle so I could sit down and get out of the displaced people crowd, but then I snagged the only empty seat in the car (someone was probably eyeballing it for a while too, and here I come and plop my big butt down and start reading).

So the train operator opened her box door, yelled, "Everyone needs to move to another car! This car is having a lot of problems!"

We all got up and moved to the next car, and since it was so early in the morning, there were plenty of seats for us.

As I usually do, I made a bad judgment call. I like to sit next to the window, and almost all the window seats were taken except in the back of the car where the benches that face each are. I had a choice: sit across from a man or sit across from a woman. I choose the woman. I should have gone with the man.

Since I didn't have my earbuds in, my only defense to friendly conversation was my book. While I was taking it out, the lady mumbled something at me. I pulled my book out and said, "Excuse me?"

She nodded her head in the direction of the dead car, and said, "So, what's going on with that car, huh?"

"Oh, I don't know. She just said it was having a lot of problems."

"The lssss weeet uuttt, huh?" she asked.

"Excuse me?" I asked again. What the heck was wrong with this lady? I realized the only way I was going to understand her was by looking at her mouth, which makes me look weird. Or deaf.

"The lights when out in the car, huh? I saw them go out," she said.

"Oh, yeah, they did."

I quickly looked down at my book and started reading. I realized I needed to avoid all attempts at conversation. I've been through this scenario a million times; I didn't need to reiterate all my BART experiences with this kook.

The operator told us the train was going out of service when the technician showed up to save us. We were going back to Hayward (we were in the middle of Hayward and Bay Fair stations) and we'd all have to leave. Didn't know how long this was going to take. Sorry for the inconvenience, blah blah blah.

That got the kook mumbling. She was really mumbling well too. She was holding some sort of conversation with herself because I was not going to acknowledge her presence unless we started getting attacked and she was the only person with a gun. Then she'd be my best friend.

Then she made some phone calls. She left a message to whomever saying that she was stuck on BART and she'll talk to her later, and blah blah blah. The second call she got someone on the phone and started telling her how we were stuck and blah blah blah. I kept ignoring.

When we finally got to Hayward, she immediately hightailed it off the train and found someone else to talk to. I moved far away from her.

There were a million announcements about the trains and which platform to get on for this train and that train. Everyone who wasn't on our train looked really confused. Then the announcer said, "And please don't yell at the station agent. It's not her fault that we have to change the plans. We're only trying to get everyone to their destination."

I thought that was funny.

I was an hour late because of all this.

So now we move on to today. Actually, it began yesterday.

Towards 10am I started feeling a crick in my neck. I didn't hurt too much, but it was annoying. I could move my head, however. Now I will never take advantage of that.

Today I woke up and couldn't move. I literally could not get out of bed.

I poked my husband in the side so he would get up and turn off the alarm clock. I usually get up and do this.

I squeaked, "I can't move. I can't get up. Yank me up!!!"

"I'm not going to yank you up. Can you turn at all?"

So there I was, trying to turn to the left and the right so I can get my all of a sudden very heavy body off the bed.

"No. I can't move!!!"

"Don't get upset," he told me.

"I can't get up! My neck huuuuuuuurts! Yank me up!"

He grabbed my arm, and then I yelped, so he let go.

I moved to the right. I moved to the left. He rubbed my neck. I tried again.

After about 10 minutes, I finally got myself up and out of bed.

I had to tackle getting my clothes off, taking a shower (including washing my hair -- which wasn't fun -- I had to go face first into the water because I couldn't lean my head back -- I almost drowned), then getting dressed again. As soon as my husband heard me turn off the water, he started knocking on the bathroom door so I would open it.

I weakly said, "I'm not dressed yet...." Even if my neck was okay, I don't get dressed that fast. There's this thing called drying off I need to do first.

"Are you in your underwear?" he asked me.

"Nooooooo....I can't put my clothes on!"

5 minutes later I opened the door and there was Zoe trying to get into the closet. I had to rush for this?

"Oh, she was sitting in front of the door, staring at it. It was cute," he told me.

I just looked at him.

I continued with my morning routine as best I could. I feed my babies in the morning, and I knew that wasn't going to happen, so as soon as my husband was done telling me all about some weird thing on Channel 8 where Jesus' uncle went to some town in England and did amazing things, I said, "Canyoucheckifthebabiesneedfood?"

I had to be quick because he might run away or start talking about something else.

He went into their room and then came out and informed me that they only have a little bit of food. Now, I would think he would just take it upon himself to feed the poor girls instead of telling me, but he needed direction.

"Can you feed them?"

He ran off to get their food.

When I left to drive to BART, I realized I probably shouldn't be driving since I couldn't turn to the left at all and turning to the right was a bit tricky.

I wanted to sleep on the BART train, but I was afraid to bend my neck. Sitting straight up wasn't working either because my head was nodding downwards. I finally gave up and tried the head propped up with my hand, and it was okay.

But since I did that, my neck stiffened up more, and I looked like I had a stick attached to my backside -- from my butt to my head. Like a puppet. I kept thinking, I hope today isn't the day I get attacked. I'm just an open target, I am. Some homeless guy eyeballed me, but since I could only see a bit forward and downwards, we only made slight eye contact, and then I passed him (looking down). He did say something to me, but I couldn't hear him (earbuds). Maybe he asked me why I was looking so funny.

And now I'm spending the remainder of my day looking like a zombie who can't move her neck. If anyone sneaks up on me, I'm dead. I'll probably have to go to the hospital or something.

What will happen Wednesday to me? We shall see, we shall see.

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