People who don't move need to be pushed

My biggest, hugest, most gigantic pet peeve about BART riders is this situation (and this happens to me way too frequently, otherwise I might be able to overlook it):

I get on at Montgomery. The train is fairly empty. I pick an empty bench to sit on, and of course, I sit by the window. Yes, this is an open invitation for anyone to sit next to me, but I hate the riders who purposely sit in the aisle seat of an empty bench. That's just plain annoying, and I refuse to play that game.

So I usually make a big and very slow production of situating myself, which in most cases detracts people from trying to sit next to me. I usually plop my work bag on the aisle seat and then sit down in the window seat. And there's always something really important I need to do, either re-situating my iPod or brushing my hair or checking my cell phone to see if anyone's called me (like anyone does...but only I know that!) -- anything that gives off the appearance of actually needing the seat next to me. If the train's packed, I really can't do this. I actually feel bad, but then soon regret not at least attempting it because some stinky man will inevitably sit next to me.

So by the time I get to Embarcadero, the seat next to me is fair game. I have a 50/50 chance of someone choosing me to sit next to, and there are some weeks where no one wants to be near me at all. Fine with me. Makes you wonder, though.

Today a lady sat next to me, and I was kinda scrunched in because I was given flowers at work since today was my last day in my department. She started her head bobbing and weaving and there was a kid in the seat in front of her and he kept turning around and staring at her, and I was really hoping she'd wake up and freak out. Didn't happen, but oh well. She did wake up every so often cause her head bobbing got to be too much.

At one point, I realized that there were tons of empty benches.

This is the thing I hate.

Why would you want to continue to sit next to someone when you can easily move somewhere else, be by yourself, have some room, and bob and weave all you want (and, in her case, not have a kid staring at her)??? Why must these people continue to sit next to someone until their stop? I've actually had people sit next to me all the way to Fremont. Sometimes I get crazed, and I loudly say, "Excuse me!" and make them move so I can sit by myself. It's some freaky herding instinct -- stick with the pack and everything will be a-okay.

Heck no. Leave me be!

This lady in particular stuck with me until her stop, which was somewhere around Bayfair, but by then I was snoozing and probably being stared at by that kid now. Hope I wasn't drooling.

Lines....

I got to the BART station at my normal time this evening, and it was a bit more crowded than normal. I weaved in and out of people talking, sitting and just plain getting in my way until I got to my usual line. This line happens to be way on the other side of the station, which is why I have to dart around people who are darting around other people and so on. If you get your "mad" face on (not too hard for me), then usually you can get to the other side fairly easily. If you look happy (somewhat harder for me to accomplish), then people simply will not move out of your way. Looking to the side or down helps too -- for some reason people are more inclined to move out of my way when I'm doing that than if I was looking straight ahead.

So I got to my line, and the right line was way, way longer than the left line. In fact, a family of about 15 just got in the right line, which is my normal line. Picking the car you ride on and the line you stand in is a science. Most newbies will catch on fairly quick that one door on BART equals two lines. People stand in either the left or right line, and when the doors open, you stream in like little ants: the right line should (and I stress should) go to the right, and the left line should (again should) go to the left. Sometimes you get rebels who cross-over a line, and if you're crossing in front of me, your guaranteed a heel kicked "by accident...," uh, yeah. So here was my favorite right line taken over by an idiot visiting family, so I looked over at the left line, and it was incredibly short. Hmm. Decisions. Okay, off to the left line I went.

I was standing in the left line, and it was about 4 people deep, and I was thinking I had it made because there were two trains before my Fremont train. Most likely I would end up in the front. Smooth sailing. The Dublin/Pleasanton train arrived, and the line began to move slowly forward (you do have to allow the people exiting the train tops 30 seconds to get their slow moving butts off the train, then it's a free for all), and then I was in the front! Yippee!

But wait.

My favorite line happens to be right next to the escalators/stairs going up and down at the other end of the station. So this means there's a wall for the fixture structure. Most people know that in this particular line, you stand straight, even if you're blocking the escalator/stairs. It just doesn't matter. It's the only way, and it only makes sense, and to do it any other way is just dumb. Don't you know this?? So I got to what I thought was the front of the line, and there was a group of people off to the side, hidden by the wall. They look at me. I look at them. I'm annoyed that they were all hiding, but I figured I should be polite and ask if they were in this particular line (cause come on, any dummy knows that you don't go hiding behind the wall where no one can see you..hello...).

To the first lady that eyeballs me I said, "Oh...are you in line?"

She responded, "Yes."

Everyone standing in the rebel group began to shuffle and act nervous, like I was going to take over their messed up line situation. This fragile old lady moved closer to the yellow strip. The others started almost butting each other. I've managed to scare the pack!

Okay. So I was stuck where I ended up, which was right where the wall side was -- the skinnier side, which worked out okay since the people coming from behind me could see that I was in fact in line, unlike the rebels around the corner, but unfortunately, people kept cutting in front of me and sort of bunched up behind the rebels. I was worried. Sometimes I'm invisible girl and no one seems to see me although I'm there. Was this happening today?

The Pittsburg/Baypoint train arrived. Now was the time I would have to act to save my place in line, which was right behind the rebels regardless of where I was standing (in my head, at least). There was an iffy moment when a lady joined the bunch because it seemed like she wasn't getting on the train, so she would be cutting in front of me, but she did the shimmy and went with the other line for the other door (which -- in case you're taking notes, is supposed to be behind the wall because there is no other choice).

Hey! I was first in line! Phewwww........

And all I could think was how lame those people were. Don't they know? And it only takes one to get it started -- that crazy herding instinct people have.

The man vs. bun headed lady

So here's Friday again, and that newbie man was sitting in that lady's seat (refer to last week's Friday post for seat stealing fun). I'll call her bun headed lady for documenting purposes. This time I got on the train from the man's side, so I saw him first, then her. Uh oh. Seems to be a Friday tradition now. Bun headed lady always seems to have a sour puss face on, and it's much worse when this man is sitting in her seat.

Again, because bun head lady was displaced, that means the fast walking lady (the one who normally sits in the seat she commandeered) was displaced. I don't even know where she went, but she passed me up on New Montgomery, so she was on the train (hence the name, fast walking lady).

I wonder if next Friday bun headed lady will make a point to get to BART earlier than normal so that she can claim her bench? I seriously thought it was just a one-time thing, but now that it happened again, I'd be seriously concerned. Hey, she may even make her Friday seat her new seat altogether. That would create quite a stir. If you can't beat them, join them?

The nature of men on BART

For some reason, and only a man would know the answer to this one, men do not want to sit next to other men on BART. Without fail, if all the benches are filled up with a single rider, and most of those single riders are men, and a man gets on, well, that man will not for the life of him sit next to another man. This man will sit next to the first female he can find. Is it something about returning to the womb? Comfort? That's just nonsense because I'm a female, and I don't want a stinky, bumbly man sitting next to me. But alas, this is what happens almost daily.

The only thing I have going for myself is that my BART train in the morning is generally empty, and my BART train at night tends to be the same way. However, yesterday, for the first time in I don't know how long, it happened to me. My blood boiled, I tell you.

I had a lot on my mind that morning, and I was staring out the window at the gloomy sky. My book was on my lap, my iPod was plugged in, and besides my work and lunch bag, I was bringing a 30-pack of bear claws to work that morning as a "thank you" and "good bye" to my new and old team members in my dept.. So I was pretty much holed up in my window seat. I'm a true believer that no matter how many things you're bringing with you on BART, you shouldn't hog up a bench unless absolutely necessary. I was basically scrunched in, but doing well. Couldn't move my legs much, but it's not like you do much moving around while on BART.

So, there I was, staring out the window, and I saw this man outside walk to the door nearest me on my car. Oh no. NOOO. I'm holed in! I looked around, and there were men all over the place. And then there was me. I was hoping that since I was awake and not sleeping, this would deter the man from sitting next to me. He got on, did a quick scan of the seating situation, moved to go to the rear of the car (opposite of me), then changed his mind and headed in my direction. He paused at the bench in front of me, but of course, there was a man sitting there, so he moved on. He picked my bench.

Man, I'm holed in! Why me? That was all I could think. So not fair. There were all these open seats with more room, but he had to sit next to me. And he was tall and gangly. I either get tall, gangly men sitting next to me or HUGE, fat men sitting next to me. What does tall and gangly mean? First, tall, gangly men's legs don't fit comfortably in the leg space. Second, their elbows for some reason cannot be controlled, and they repeatedly poke into my arm. With this guy, I decided I was not moving my legs to accomodate his spider legs because he sat down next to me and he could have very well sat on the bench in front of me that had tons of open space for his stupid spider legs. And if his elbow even touched my arm, he was going to get a really good push from innocent little me. Luckily, this guy was okay in all respects -- he didn't cross the invisible boundary lines. And I only had the tunnel and 2 stops to get through. I could deal. Even though I was totally holed up and trapped.

So we got to Embarcadero and he doesn't get off. Great. I start making a big production about getting my stuff together, so that this man will understand that I will be getting off at the next stop, and that since half the people on the car have just gotten off, and since I'm HOLED up in my window seat because of my stuff and him, that maybe, just maybe, it would nice of him to move his spidery self to another bench. He wasn't making any motions like he even recognized that I was there and that I was moving around (earbuds out, work badge around neck & tucked into my jacket, earbuds back in and iPod moved to jacket pocket, Translink card removed from work bag pocket, grab all bags and get ready...). He just sat. And this made me so greatly mad that my blood boiled and my earbuds popped out of my ears, and I drop my Translink card, which means I let go of my bags. I put my earbuds back in my ears, which then got stuck on something and popped out again; I was ready to blow. And he was still sitting there. And I was still holed up but now I was really mad and flustered. I don't do well when I'm mad and flustered.

When I'm mad and flustered, that's when I can't get my earbuds to stay in place and I drop my Translink card and it's just a messy scene, I'll tell you. If I was walking, I would have already tripped. I basically looked like a loony bag lady who couldn't get her crap together while spiderman was casually sitting there, trapping me.

I almost stood up (although this was probably not likely in my current condition -- more like hunching over the bench in front of me) and dumped my stuff in the bench in front of me so that this guy who for some reason thinks I'm 90 lbs and have nothing with me would get that I do exist and would like him to move his spider butt and give me some space. But I didn't do that. I sat there like a loaded spring, ready to jump up with all my stuff and run off the train. He waited until the last minute as we were pulling into Montgomery and then stood up and moved to the door.

I was still fighting with my earbuds and my bags and a lady sitting on the handicap bench was staring at me while Spidy was casually standing at the doors, waiting for them to open....

All because I'm a female, and men hate sitting next to each other.

The yellow strip

If you ride BART, you are familiar (or should be) of the yellow strip that's about a foot wide and runs the length of all BART platforms. This is the yellow strip that you should never, ever, EVER stand on. Some BART operators get very perturbed if riders are standing on the yellow strip while the train is pulling in. Basically, they're freaked out that the person will slip and fall and get crushed by the train. I can see their point. Wouldn't be a very good scene.

What I don't get are people that do this:

I'm first in line for the train. I do not stand on the yellow line, but I'm pretty darn close to it. I'm usually plugged into my iPod with book in hand, reading. Since book is in hand and being held away from my body, my book is technically on the yellow strip. But hey, it's only a book, so I will take my chances. I'm not really paying much attention to those around me because I figure they should be somewhat responsible for themselves.

Then...a blur! Someone walks, right in front of me, on the yellow strip, to get to the other side of the line I'm in. What amazes me is that these people who do this must think I really care about their safety or that I'm paying attention to their actions. Well, unfortunately, I don't care and I'm not paying attention. They could just as easily say, "Excuse me," to someone in line, where safety is in abundance, but no, this hardly happens. The yellow strip is the only way to go.

I'm just waiting for the day when I'm turned to the side, and someone tries to cross in front of me from my backside while I suddenly turn to the other side for some reason, and BAM! they're knocked into oncoming BART traffic. Oh well.

The only word of advice I can give is that you make yourself apparent and say, "Excuse me" because people tend to respond to politeness instead of barging.

I have yet to witness a fatality, although I did witness some kid's sign-up sheet for football pandering fall between the train and the platform (mind the gap!). Instead of getting on the train, his mouth dropped open and then said, "My paper!" Then he quickly slipped through the doors as they were closing. Those kids always annoyed me, so it was pretty good justice for all.

I get such enjoyment when this happens

I see the same people every day on my BART train. These same people, including myself, have particular benches that they like to sit on. I have my favorite spot on the morning train, and yes, I sit in it every day unless the light above the bench is out (you wouldn't want me to go blind, would you??).

What I love the most is when a new BART rider takes a regular's seat.

This happened today to this lady who sits on the same side as me, all the way in the back, by the window. We essentially face each other. She's always sitting there. Sometimes she's there before I even get on, sometimes we're both getting on at the same time, sometimes I'm there before her, but so far, until today, she's sat in the same spot unless she just wasn't there for some reason.

Now, I hate it when people sit in my spot, but it's been so long since it's happened, that I haven't really thought about it. And the train I take now is an early train (5:50am), so there really aren't too many people on it in the morning. For some reason a 20-minute lapse causes the train to have more riders on it (my old train), and seat stealing happened more often on that train. There was a time a few years ago that this one lady made it a point to take my seat whenever she could. I finally got so annoyed by it, that I moved to a different car altogether but sat in the same seat location. What happened? She started sitting on the same car. Bizarre.

So this morning, the door to my regular car was open, so instead of walking through the train, I just walked to the door and got on. That's when I noticed it.

The lady was sitting on the opposite side of her normal seat.

Uh oh, I thought.

I stepped on, and sure enough, there was some newbie sitting in her seat. While I could feel her pain, I secretly enjoyed it. What makes this whole scenario better, is that the seat she was sitting in is a seat this other regular lady sits in.

Wooweee! A double whammy!

Little did this guy know that he caused such a silent uproar!

Happy St. Patty's!

Nothing much exciting happened today on BART. This does happen occasionally.

Happy St. Patrick's day!

Enjoy the green beer!

BART operators and their many faceted personalities

If you take BART daily, you soon learn your BART operators' personalities and their quirks and the things that annoy you about them will eventually eat you alive (a 6-month stint of a morning BART operator that would YELL and threaten and even sometimes cause bodily harm to passengers almost pushed me to the end). I won't go into each and every particular BART operator now, but as they impress me, I'll share.

Okay, I lied. A quick note: There was an operator who liked to say the weirdest things to the riders -- like we were his friends. One Friday as he pulled into Embarcadero, he announced, "Happy Friday! The weekend's almost here!" Then when his route was changing, he made a point to tell us all that his route was changing, and that he enjoyed us all as riders, and that maybe we'll be passengers on another train of his. He was just nice.

Today, it was gigantic Islander BART operator man.

I think, although I can't say for sure because I thought this guy was African American, this is the operator that likes to give synopses of the main attractions at each stop. Maybe he was trained by the other guy, I don't know, but he was doing this at every, single stop from Fremont to Montgomery. Now, if you've taken this BART line, you'll soon realize there aren't many fantastic attractions to point out. But this guy (and the other guy, but for now, I'll assume they are the same), this guy knows bus lines, he knows where the nearest hospital is, he knows so much more than you would expect from a human that operates a BART train. I mean, did he seriously get off at each stop and write notes? How does he know all this?

What's the funniest thing about this guy is that he is HUGE. Big man who could crush my skull in two seconds. Wham-o! He was walking from one end of the train to the other, and instead of walking the platform like most, he walked through the train. He surprised me because he actually stopped even though I was pretty far behind, waited for me to get to the doors, and held them open for me. Now, that's nice. I mean, come on, I was pretty far back. So here's this huge man waiting for me...his momma must love him.

So when he starts talking about Union City and then South Hayward and then Hayward, and giving all this information that I guaranty you the average 6am BART rider doesn't care about, I just thought it was funny, if not a bit annoying. The average 6am BART rider doesn't want to listen to someone ramble on at 6am in the morning.

Thank goodness for iPods. And sleepiness.

However, this gets really old on those trips you aren't tired or that you can't block out voices and concentrate on a book. Because it just keeps going on and on and on...


But hey! You sure can learn a lot.

The smells you smell on BART

Two annoying things happened today on BART.

1. Line etiquette.

I'm a big believer in line etiquette. This basically means, when you pick your line, you go to the end and you stand and you wait. You don't lurk off to the side, you don't bug other people in line unless it's an extreme case, and you just mind your own darn business while moving up and to the side accordingly.

So the lady two up from me got attacked by a friend or co-worker who happened by her. The lady in front of me got on the next train, so I moved one up. I decided not to be annoyed by the talking ladies even if her friend decides to take advantage of "happening upon" her pal. Whatever, let it go. I could only hope they weren't getting on the same train, then I could either bypass them or they'd get on before me.

So the next train shows up, and the people in front of the ladies move up and get on the train. The lady that was initially standing in line freaks out and moves off to the right side, out of the line...buuuuttt, it's still a bit questionable and her friend is still in line. I'm trying to be silently forceful and make them either move up or move to the side or get out of line altogether. The friend is still in line, and she's freaking out that the other lady got out of line. I'm standing directly behind her, book in hand and iPod plugged in, so I couldn't hear what they're saying. The friends is hand motioning her to get back in line and the lady is still off to the side, freaking out and shaking her head no. I'm still standing there, hoping no one bashes into me because now there's a kink in the line, and that kink is named lady and now me. Finally after standing there for what seems like a million years, the friend gets out of line too. They continue to titter together, and I gladly move on up. Hey! After all that, I was first in line for the Fremont train. It could have been a bad scene, but my patience and line etiquette proved positive.

Either that, or I just cut in front of them. Not really sure.

2. Smelly folk.

When I got on the train, I sat in a window seat -- the seat of my choice because it's easier to sleep in the window seat than in the aisle seat. And if you fall asleep in the aisle seat, you're liable to be a bob and weaver, and there's no way I'm going to do that unless I can't help it. At the next stop, a lady sits down next to me.

Now, I'm a big smeller -- I smell everything and most smells offend me. The lady that sat next to me smelled like a very harsh, toxic burning plastic smell. I'm always afraid I'll start coughing or gagging or something (depends on the smell, of course) when someone whose smell offends me, but I haven't done it yet. I have gotten up and moved, but that's for extremes like the homeless folk who for some reason want to sit next to non-homeless folk. I finally get used to her smell, and I start getting tired, and I lean my head on my hand (leaning towards the window, mind you) and then another smell hits me.

Farts!

The man behind me either was farting or had breath that smelled like farts. OMG. I know that when you've got to fart, you've got to fart, but please keep your farting off of BART. Even though there is air passing through the cars, it's not enough air to quickly dissipate a fart smell. And this can be the worst of any smells, depending on the human. It took a minute or two, but finally the fart smell went away, and I didn't die in my cloud of toxic plastic on one side and farts behind me.

I wonder what the person next to him thought?

Actually, I wonder if the lady next to me thought I was the farter.

When BART is messed up

Today BART was running late for some reason in the evening -- something to do with the train going from Oakland to somewhere -- it really becomes same story, different day.

What does this cause? Massive silent panic. Everyone acts real cool while they're standing in their chosen long line, but really, underneath is all, everyone is desperately worried about having to stand up for 45 minutes and not getting a seat. You see that old, fragile lady over there not really in any particular line -- what I call a lurker? Well, she's certainly not cutting in front of me, and if by chance she does slip in, she will be pushed out of the way. And you -- you with the baby stroller, don't you even think you can take up more space than two people would. And don't you even dare think of plopping your gigantic moving baby-home inbetween the benches that face each other and then take out your screaming baby, so basically taking four seats up instead of just one cause you know no one will want to sit next to you. No one is that patient. And you -- you dreaded traveler with your suitcase and carry-on, how dare you take up a whole bench! At least I know you're only on the train until Oakland coliseum. Pregnant? I have no pity for your slight mobility and swollen ankles. This is my train and I want to sit down just as much as you do!

Okay, it wasn't really that bad, but I did have to sit next to a little Asian lady that smelled like pee on my right side and two really loud and manly voiced ladies on my left. And man, was I tired today, but I patiently waited for a bench to became vacant so I could pass-out and have happy BART slumber. Ah, this is the traveling life....

It's always fun to take BART with a friend

Yesterday my husband met me in SF for dinner and drinks to celebrate my new job. For those that know me, yes, the celebration is early since I don't start my new job for another 3 weeks, but any excuse to eat out and have fun is a good excuse. I'm sure we'll be celebrating again. In fact, we celebrated with our friend S, and when we told him why we were having dinner together that night since he's not a friend we normally hang out with (side note: I kept telling my husband to tell him beforehand, but he kept saying he was going to wait until the actual dinner -- oooo, the suspense of it all. Which only guaranteed the celebration to fall flat on its face), S said, "Oh, wow, that's great....so anyways...." I was dejected, but what can I expect from the guy who hired me years ago, then fired me (really "pushed" me out of the job because of a psycho retail incident on my part), and is now working as an admin and trying to secure a more permanent job with the city of SF. Oh, no, I'm not bitter for the lack of enthusiasm!

Anyway, so what does this all mean? It means I got to ride home on BART with my hubby, who also shares an affination for his iPod and music. We usually do something lame with our iPods on the way home -- either listening to our own and mouth singing at each other to show the other person that their iPod music collection is way better than others, or yanking out one of the other person's ear buds and sticking in one of yours, so essentially that person is now listening to two songs at once, or switching iPods altogether and listening to the other person's music collection. This makes time pass very quickly for some reason.

Last night I had the brilliant idea of unplugging my ear buds and his ear buds, and then replugging his into my iPod and mine into his. Yes, I'm genius at making up new iPod fun. Then, we were in control of what the other was listening to during the whole ride. What's funny is that we picked the same song almost right away (Ryan Adams), so we listened to it almost in synch. Then we purposely picked a song to listen to at the same time. There were a lot of old soul songs, jazz tunes, and 80's classics being passed around. Oh, the fun of it all. But hey, if you make 45-minute BART ride go by in what seems like 15 minutes, then you gotta do what you gotta do. I always wonder if we're annoying anyone.

When we got to Fremont, there was a guy sleeping, and even though it goes against my rule of every person for themselves (read my March 1st story and you'll see what I mean), I made my husband try to wake him up. Notice I said my husband -- I do many kind acts through him when we go out. So there was my husband, who is generally the nicest guy in the world when it comes to things like this (if he was on that March 1st train, he would have done something -- that's why I married the guy), trying to wake this man up and I'm on the platform waiting for him, and the guy just kinda looked at my husband and then closed his eyes. It's always fun when a nice deed makes you look kinda stupid. Every person for themselves!

Slow dancing at the BART station

Like the subways of NY, the BART stations attract their fair amount of musicians -- either playing for money or just people practicing together (something about the acoustics, I suppose -- that or the space). At any given time of the day, you'll find accordion players, acapella singers, acoustic rockers, jazz trios, classical musicians, and even a little guy who belts his heart out in Spanish while playing the guitar.

This morning, I got off the train at 6:40am, headed slowly up the escalator to the top, made my usual u-turn to the right and flashed my Translink card to the station agent before heading through the swing gates.

There's always an ever-changing assortment of musicians in the morning. And after riding BART for so long you either pay attention or just block it out. I like to listen as I make my 30-second trek to the exit. This morning it was a classical bunch, playing something that sounded a little waltzey, a little like Norman Welk. I noticed that there were two people standing off to the left, a bit in the way of the traffic trying to exit from the left side of the station. This is the side I exit from.

It was a man and a lady, both dressed for a business day, and the man had his arms out holding the lady's arms. At first glance I thought they were talking or even arguing (you see it all after a point, so arguing it not uncommon). Then I realized what they really were doing. They were slow dancing a la 7th grade -- where you don't want to actually touch the other person but for some reason you want be close to them.

Now I can say I've finally seen it all -- slow dancing at the BART station. It certainly put a small smile on my face as I walked by. Everyone's so busy trying to get somewhere, that I'm not sure too many people noticed. Hopefully the band did.

BART without iPod: A sad story

I forgot my iPod today. Me without my iPod is like a sundae without whipped cream. It's just plain sad. Luckily, there weren't any reasons to block out anything (conversations or really talkative BART, uh, drivers), so I survived.

When you have your iPod, you not only block out annoying conversations, but you also immediately make yourself invisible. No one will try to talk to you and sometimes, if you listen to your music loudly enough, no one will even want to be near you. This is a great defense against tourists who want to latch onto anyone who knows the BART ropes. Go find someone with free ears and who cares.

The lady sitting next to me going home was one of those sleepers whose head bobs all over the place while their torso remains straight. If you're going to have any type of sleeper next to you, this is the best kind. The worst are those that bob and weave and snort and sometimes fart. There's nothing a stranger's body drifting towards you as they sleep. What's amazing is they never drift the other direction. Well, that's not true. My husband and I were snoozing on a BART ride home from SF, and he was close to falling into the aisle. Luckily, a man walked by him and tapped him on the shoulder and let him know he was ready to fall out of his seat. So I guess it happens. Maybe the key is not knowing the person next to you; if you don't know them, it's okay to lean up against them! If you do, then head for the aisle.

Crazy homeless man -- New Montgomery

There's this crazy homeless man that wanders New Montgomery in the mornings. Everyone who walks up the street to get to work knows him. He's one of those "borderline" homeless people -- like if you catch him on the wrong day, he'll rip your eyes out or pull your hair out or something. He's a screamer/yeller. He's usually not yelling at anyone except his demons, so I just make sure I'm aware of his location but haven't felt particularly threatened yet. He's one of the more dirtier, smellier homeless locals that I come across on a daily basis. If I have to pass him, I usually suck in my breath until I'm about 10 feet beyond him. I cannot take the smell.

Today when I was approaching the stairwell to get to the BART station, I noticed he was leaning against the cement block that begins the wall of the stairwell. Pretty unusual since I never really see him except in the mornings. This was in the evening. And I never see him actually on Market Street, which is where he was. Then I noticed that his legs are bare. To get to the stairwell, I have to make a turn around him, and I noticed him making arm movements -- not quite sure what he was doing, not quite sure I want to know.... My assumption is he was going to the bathroom, perhaps doing something even worse for public viewing. Regardless, I wasn't going to look.

Nice sight for the tourists. His smell followed me down the two flights of stairs to the BART station. You almost, almost get used to it, but I fear the day that I really am.

What happened on March 1 -- Loony

Okay, so this is my first BART post, and befittingly, it's probably the worst thing that's happened to me on BART yet. Thanks to my pal M, who set this up for me after listening to over 5 years of my BART stories (some long, most short and just weird), I now have a place to vent out my BART frustrations and to share my stories.

Now. What happened on March 1?

I got on the Fremont train at Montgomery and sat at the rear of the first car of the train. At Embarcadero, my sis, D, got on and sat in a bench that was perpendicular to the handicap bench. There was an empty space on the handicap bench, right next to her. After going through the 7-minute tunnel under the bay (yes, it actually takes about 7 minutes to go across the bay) and stopping at West Oakland, I moved to sit next to her. After a few minutes of talking, I noticed a lady walking toward the end of the car. She stopped 4 rows behind by sis and started ranting at a man who was listening to music. His face dripped of annoyance and apprehension. Do you just ignore her in hopes she goes away? Do you respond? See, as a BART rider, you must make these quick judgments.

This is where I made my fatal flaw.

I made eye contact with her.

This is something you never do if you're uncertain of the person's mental capacity. This is something you just need to learn. I know this, but I made the mistake regardless.

I was sitting facing the side of the BART car, with a book on my lap. The lady made her way down the aisle and stopped in front of me. She was close enough so that if I stood up, we'd be about an inch apart. She points to my book and screams, "You shouldn't be doing that in public! You should keep that to yourself!!!," like I'm doing something extremely wrong (imagine your own wrong-doings for public viewing). I looked at her, and I'm thinking, okay, now...do I react? Do I ignore? If I ignore, will she go away or just stand there yelling at me? Obviously this lady was a loon; she reeked of alcohol, had a weathered face, and looked like she's been through hell and back.

I decided to ignore.

She continued to the back of the train and sat down next to a man that was reading. She was, in fact, on the bench that was directly behind the bench I was originally sitting on. She was sitting really close the man, with her hand over her mouth, looking at me and whispering something to him. The man looked freaked out, as you can imagine. My sis and I continue to talk. I tell her that I've always been meaning to program the BART police number in my cell phone, and after this incident, I think I'll be doing that. Then I laugh. Then I stare off into space.

Next thing I know, my sis is yelling, "Don't you touch her!" and I feel a hand on my neck.

My first thought was, 'Now, why is my sis lunging over me and saying this?' Then my second thought was, 'Uh, someone's choking me...."

And then it was over.

The loon of a lady was standing next to the bench, screaming at me about how I'm talking about her, and I better stop, and that I'm standing outside her house all the time talking about her and how bad that is.

My sis is shaking, she looks ready to cry, and tells me, "She just choked you!"

I say loudly to anyone, "Can someone please call the BART operator and tell him to call the police???"

A side note about BART rider mentality -- unless it's affecting you, you are unlikely to come to someone else's assistance. Now, because of this, my chances were pretty slim to none that anyone would call. I didn't want to risk moving since I had no idea if this lady would attack me or not, and I really didn't like the idea of leaving my sis in case the lady tried attacking her too, so I just kinda stared at everyone. Staring worked, and one lady (yes --- lady, not man, mind you) got up and called the BART operator. The loon of a lady turned on her for a bit, and in the meantime, I tried to calm my sister down. At the next stop, the lady got off but not before telling me that I murder kids and keep them in light fixtures. Yes, that's me. How did she ever find out?

This all happened in about a two-minute time frame.

One man sitting near me had the nerve to ask me if I knew her. I will admit, how she was screaming at me would lead someone to think I did know her, but come on. Give me some credit I was dressed nice for work that day!

Anyway, long story short and less interesting that the above, I was 3 hours late getting home because I had to go back to Oakland to identify her and give a police report.

To top off the whole experience, the cop positioned me by a pole outside the BART station, so I was far enough away to be able to clearly identify the lady when being brought out, but not close enough for her to do anything to me. So it was taking a bit of time, and I was leaning against the pole, waiting. Suddenly, I felt something plop! on my right shoulder. Before I looked, I just knew what it was because that's just how my life is sometimes, but why did it have to be so brown and green and gross??? A bird pooped on me. My husband was with me at this time (moral support but mainly protection), and I turned to him quickly (I was still waiting for the cop to bring the loon out) and said, "Can you believe this? Look!," and then I quickly took my jacket off because I really didn't want to stand there waiting for the loon with bird poop on my shoulder.

Yes, March 1 was my day.

And yes, the BART police number is now programed into my cell phone. I highly suggest you do the same.