Winding Down

This is what BART looks like during the high commute hours the Wednesday before the Christmas holiday. It will probably stay like this through next week. I'm torn between really enjoying the light train and resenting the fact that I'm on my way to work while others are snug in their beds on their days off. Or they're rushing around last-minute packing and wrapping presents, trying to get to the airport just in time to stand in an obscenely long line. Yeah, I'm going to go with that vision.

Are you comfortable?

One of my biggest pet peeves (I dare say it's my #1) is when people are inconsiderate/not aware of others. (I'll spare you my pages-long list of times I encounter this on BART. There's something about public transportation that brings out the selfishness in people). This guy decided to get comfortable on the ride home during peak commute hours. People were standing while he stretched. Did I mention he was listening to music on speaker? The only solace I find is in the high amount of his surface area in contact with the germ-ridden BART seats.

Occupy

The BART train this morning was eerily empty.  Oakland police had began their raid on Occupy Oakland campers three hours prior.  As I glanced around the train, I realized that my lack of blogging (which is directly correlated to my obsession with reading the A Song of Ice and Fire series) is resulting in me missing out on the chance to document an incredibly important part of history. Since I am just someone who likes to write the funny things she sees during her commute (and not a journalist), I'll let the Wikipedia summarize the Occupy movement for you:

Occupy Movement

My perspective of Occupy has been mostly from a Bay Area resident and commuter's standpoint. My fear of crowds and aversions to confrontation and being arrested make me a poor protester. We stopped by Occupy SF one afternoon early into the movement. Occupy SF has NOTHING on Occupy Oakland. Much to my surprise, Occupy SF was relatively small. While the protesters were passionate, their causes were not unified and the most shocking thing I witnessed was a pair of naked men with their "accouterments." While I was there, protesters were polite to the police and vice versa (which hasn't always the case: San Francisco Police Confront Occupy SF Protesters Market Street Overnight and Occupy San Francisco Protesters Attacked Two Officers, Police Say)

From what I understand, Occupy Oakland has the flavor of a Vietnam-era protest. Occupy Oakland protesters are persistent. The police have raided their camps twice now (while the right to protest is protected, the right to camp is not). The term raid turned out to be an appropriate term: tear gas, flash-bang grenades, and rubber bullets were used against the crowd of protesters to break up the camps in the October 25th raid and 32 protesters were arrested in the November 14th raid.  Yet Oakland protesters keep coming back (and in the case of the November 14th raid, refused to leave).  On November 2, 2011, 30,000 peaceful protesters convened on downtown Oakland and marched on the Port of Oakland and shut it down (impressive, considering Oakland is the FIFTH LARGEST PORT in the U.S.)!  Say what you want about Oakland, but it's got passion!

So how has all this affected me on BART?  Rather minimally to be honest.  I receive emergency updates from BART and the City of Oakland.  When a protest is planned, I make sure to leave the office by 4:30 pm so as not to get stuck in the BART commuter rush AND delayed trains.  The latest I've ever been is 45 minutes.  This has only happened twice.  The BART trains generally will skip the 12th Street Oakland stop if trouble's a-brewin' downtown.  The worst circumstance was last Thursday, when a man was jumped by five men near an Occupy Oakland camp (Occupy protesters swear he was not affiliated with the movement) and killed.  That, and the fact that the brakes went out on the train I was on (do you know what happens when the brakes go out?  They restart the car, since everything on the car is electric.  Which means we sat in the dark in a tunnel for a few minutes), made for a very long start to my three day weekend.  A man lost his life that night, though, so I will NOT complain about a long commute.

This guy...

...was a total mess. We went out to dinner with friends in SF on Friday night and got on the 11pm train to head home. When we got on the train, he was going after this burrito. (He could have been filming one of those terrible Carls Jr. commercials). Then, all that frenetic energy swiftly left him and he promptly passed out. As he slumped over to the side, his hand barely kept a grip on his burrito. You can't see it in this photo, but he had burrito juice running down his pants leg. There were wrapper pieces and rice particles sprinkling the seat next to him. At one point, a girl walked over to him to wake him up and ask him what stop he needed. He replied "huh? Oh, the next stop." She then asked him if he knew which one that was and he confirmed that he did. Then he passed out again. He finally got off three stops later. We reached the stop and he bolted up and stumbled, almost horizontally, out the doors. I really hope he took a cab or walked home.

I'm so fired

I just was reviewing my neglected blog and noticed the sidebar where I ask you to send me your stories.  At which point I realized I haven't checked that email in forever.  As Murphy would have it, a friend of mine had shared a story with me.  On March 30.  So sorry, I wasn't ignoring you!!!!  Here it is and thank you for sharing!  You're right M., BART is so disconcerting.

Hi Christy,

I'm enjoying your BART stories and have one of my own.

After 30+ years of backpacking, I pride myself on my sense of direction. That feeling though was shot to hell on my one and only BART ride about 2 years ago.I visited my daughter in her first year at Berkeley and we took the BART to SF so she could visit a dance studio she was interested in. The ride over, or rather under the bay, was uneventful, except for the fact I couldn't stop trying to estimate the tons of weight pushing down on the car I was in.

The ride back though had me totally confused. We walked down the stairs and got in the car and for nearly the entire ride back to Berkeley I was convinced the train was moving in the wrong direction. Watching the lights and the wall move past the window, I would have bet (and lost) big money that we were going the wrong way. It wasn't until we had traveled some distance and I started to recognize the stations we had passed traveling west that I finally relaxed. If I could only have seen the sun, I would have been OK.

M.S.

Protests in the Air

 There's an electric air in San Francisco lately.  Between fighter jets flying overhead every half hour (Fleet Week) to hundreds of protesters lining up outside banks (#OccupySF) throughout the financial district lately, there's a lot going on.  On many afternoons, we've been able to hear protesters from our office window.   Apparently, the air of protest is contagious (or maybe it's just San Francisco).  There's a Church of Scientology a block up from work.  The doors are very rarely open, so I was a little surprised when I walked past on my lunch break to see people in front of it.

I was even more surprised when I noticed these people were holding signs and wearing masks.  Upon closer inspection, you could see that they were wearing CREEPY masks.  Then, one of the protesters grabbed a boom box and this is what I heard:  <this song>

That's right, the Church of Scientology got rick-rolled.  Awesome.

 

This seems like a good note on which to return to blogging

I want her self-confidence

Recipe for Amazing Awfulness: 

Combine:

• 1 stand-up bass
• 1 kazoo
• 1 tamborine
• 1 severely off-key voice 
• 1 lacy dress
• 1 pair of Vans from the 90s

Directions:

• Find and put on semi-dressy dress.   Make sure it shows some cleavage.
• Put on low-rise socks with Vans shoes.  Take tamborine, attach to right shoe. 
• Take kazoo.  Either place in mouth to play or in cleavage for holding.
• Take popular songs (i.e. "House of the Rising Sun" and "Walk the Line") and distort them so that they're virtually unrecognizable. 

 What you get:

People will be awestruck and scared, yet entertained.

Chipozzle

This couple sitting behind me on BART today were discussing burritos. The guy was trying to show his girlfriend how big Chipotle burritos were. Her response: "How should I know how big the burritos there are? I've never eaten ay Chip--, Chip---, Chipo--, Chipozzle! Those sound like they could be shared by two people"

Him: "Well, yeah, they could be shared, but you could eat an entire one. I like your 'tender bits' ".

At this point, he pinched her love handles.

Are you thinking what I'm thinking? That it sounds like there's something off with this guy?

She then asked him about the sodas there. He mentioned they were okay, but not as good as "that place" with the good pure cane sugar sodas. He explained to her that the Illuminati shut the other place down and told them that they were required to serve the "poisonous other stuff."

That's not it. When we exited the Transbay tunnel, he cried out when he saw the smog against the hills. He explained to her that it was "radioactive dust." He believed that they should invest in a geiger counter to measure Uranium levels. She agreed (earnestly) that they ought to.

I love listening to some good conspiracy theories on my BART ride home!

Wrong side of the Bed

Last week, I needed to get blood drawn before work, so I took the early BART train to the Powell Street station.  While I was walking through the Powell Street station, I noticed five police officers and a stretcher.  What was going on!?  I then heard someone screaming very loudly.  As I approached the exit, I saw a homeless man who had passed out on the floor of the BART station.  He was obviously very inebriated, because as they tried to wake him up, he started screaming.  Three of the five officers stood there chit-chatting while two tried to get the man to wake up (apparently this was not an unusual circumstance for them!).  The officers were very gentle (they weren't even touching him) but you would have thought they were manhandling him from his wailing.

It instantly reminded me of one Sunday afternoon when Mike and I ate lunch in Morro Bay.  As we returned to our car, a homeless man stopped us to pet our dogs and after a few minutes of conversation, he suddenly switched gears and began having flashbacks to Vietnam.  It was SO sad and scary for him, and lucky for him my husband, who is SO good in moments of crisis, was there to help him find a place to sit until he came out of it.  Then he started sobbing.  It was heartbreaking.

AC Transit is not my friend

On Saturday night, I had a great time partying it up in San Francisco for my friend's 30th birthday. We all crashed in a hotel room in Union Square. Whenever I drink, I don't sleep much so it was no surprise to me when my internal alarm clock went off at 6:15 am. Knowing that normal people sleep longer after a night of drinking, I decided to sneak out and go home early. My phone had died the night before, so I was unable to check the BART schedule, but I always take early trains during the week, so I figured I was good to go. I walked over to the BART and got on the Pitsburg/Bay Point train, figuring I'd transfer at 19th Street Oakland (my standard route home).

Of all the days for my phone (and thus my camera) to be dead! I was smashed into a train chock-full of Bay to Breakers. There were some good costumes but (thankfully) no naked guys. They all got off at the Embarcadero stop and soon it was just five of us on the train.

Since my phone was dead, I had nothing to do but sit and eavesdrop on the couple across the aisle. I'm using the term couple very loosely, as it was actually a guy hitting on the stranger in front of him. It amazes me how some guys don't pick up on body language or social cues! She was sitting in front of him. His pick-up line was "Do you speak spanish?" (the answer: "Even though I look mexican, no.". Neither did he. Then he started with what can best be described as an interview. Where was she taking BART to? Was she in school? Where did she work? If this seems creepy to you, it was! Initially, she turned around to answer his questions but soon she just stared straight ahead and answered them as he stared at her reflection in the BART window. To her credit, she gave vague answers that wouldn't give him a chance to stalk her later. I wanted to yell out to her that if she was uncomfortable, she had every right to a) stop engaging in the interrogation or b) move. Sadly, the uncomfort continued until I reached my transfer at 19th Street.

I got off the BART and walked to the opposite platform. Funny, there was no train scheduled to arrive. Weird. An elderly lady approached me and asked me if the Richmind train was coming. My only answer: "I hope." I found a schedule on the board and learned that Sunday morning trains don't start running until 8:15 am. It was 7:15 am. The only reason the other train was running was due to a special schedule for Bay to Breakers.

Dammit. I had nothing to read or listen to (damn  dead phone!).  I was not in the best (or worst) part of Oakland. Nothing would be open, anyway, because it was too early on a Sunday morning. I found the older lady and let her know the news. She asked me how much the bus would cost. Light bulb! I could take the bus home!

I went upstairs and just my luck, the bus I needed drove up right then! Score, right? No. The damn bus died every time it opened its doors. Which is every stop. We'd sit there for five minutes at every stop as the driver fiddled with the buttons and tried to get the engine to turn over. Then it would start (hooray!) and we'd drive a mile to the next stop and it would die. I was pleading with the bus gods to let the bus make it to Berkeley, where I could at least hang out at a familiar coffee shop until BART started running. Somewhere near Ashby, the bus stopped dying at each stop, but only with the trade-off of listening to an incessant warning buzz the entire ride home.

When I finally got home, my two sweet dogs were so excited to see me. I can't remember a recent time when I was so happy to see them, too.

Inheritence

In the 1970s, my grandparents moved from Southern California to Concord. My grandpa worked at the Wells Fargo on Montgomery Street and took BART to work every day. I love the fact that forty years later, I sit on the same train, exit at the same station, and walk by that very same Wells Fargo (though I do not love the thought that I'm sitting on the same seats).

This weekend, my grandma was telling me about how my grandpa befriended the homeless people on his commute. He would always make time to say hello and talk to the regulars. If you ever had the pleasure of meeting my grandpa, you could just imagine him standing there, his hands clasped behind his back, smiling that slightly crooked smile that made his left eye squint a bit (I inherited that squint). There is no doubt in my mind that they looked forward to seeing him every day.

He befriended one lady in particular who hung out at the Montgomery Station. Apparently, she asked him if he could loan her twenty five dollars (not just spare change!) one day and he gladly did (be honest, would you?). She absolutely paid him back and gave him a letter thanking him for his kindness and generosity. My grandma still has that letter - I can't wait to read it.

Upon hearing this story, i instantly realized that was where my mom "got it." My mom is sweet and friendly with everyone. There's no such thing as a quick trip to the grocery store, because everyone, from the butcher to the bagger, knows her and wants to stop and chat. Same goes for a walk around the block - which she does with her hands clasped behind her back (makes my heart smile). She has always had a soft spot for the homeless, too. I remember she would see the man on the corner on the way into the store and she would come out with not only a sandwhich from the deli but a whole hot meal and give it to him. One time, she was visiting me in SLO. There was a sad, sad man who was a quadruple amputee. He had a chair that had a device rigged up so he could smoke cigars from a stand. He broke her heart and she gave what she thought was two fives to him. She later realized it was two twenties! She wasn't upset though - she laughed about it.

Right now, I'm not in the financial situation to be generous with money with every homeless person I encounter. I am, however, in a situation to be generous in spirit. I'm going to take a page from the family book and smile, converse, and make eye contact with the regulars on my commute.

Intercepted

I was just about to record this awesome hippie mother-daughter duo dancing to street music in front of the Powell Street BART station. Right as I hit record, this (presumably) homeless man beelined over to me and grabbed my hand (to shake it). He then looked at me and started talking, but his voice was sooo low that he was basically mouthing the words. He was staring very intently at me.

And then the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

This isn't a default reaction of mine, but there was something telling me to take my hand and get the hell out of there.

So that's what I did.

Maybe I'm paranoid or maybe I'm just getting street savy. Usually, my interactions with the homeless in San Francisco don't freak me out. But there was something about the way he was looking at me and mouthing words that made my skin crawl.

No video though, as soon as I saw him comung I zipped my phone into my bag. Thankfully, both my wallet and phone are still in there.

Ay ay ay

On the train home the other day, a twenty-something woman was reading a book the equivalent of The Babysitter's Club aloud to her adult companion.  When she finished the chapter, she began telling stories (very loudly) about when her mom and dad were on crack. Something about how she knew her dad was on crack when he was laughing at a show on the Disney channel!  Then, she jumped into a story of how detectives with trench coats ("just like Law & Order") came to her house to ask about a robbery and she had eight nice rings on her fingers.  She freaked out because it made her look really guilty. 

Not sure what to make of her stories.  If they're true, then whoa.

It's been a while

It's been a while since I came across a REAL BART crazy. The other day, a man with a set of teeth that numbered in the single digits was sitting in the corner of the train singing loud. He then got up and walked to the center of the train and proclaimed "this here is God's country, it ain't no Fool's shit." Then he began laughing hysterically. As he walked over and into the other car, he got in a shouting match with a woman sitting there (couldn't quite hear the content of their conversation, but I'm willing to bet they're feuding BART regulars).

One, Two, and Three

Remember these guys? They were behind me again on BART today. (An aside: I'm realizing the Fremont-bound train is where all the stories are). These guys talk non-stop. They talk over each other, the interrupt one another, and they bicker. Today, I learned that they're still in high school, which makes the content of their conversation more sad than funny. Some highlights:

One is fiercely protective of his "mama.". Two and Three were ragging him on how tacky it was that his mom only gave him $15 for his birthday. He got very defensive (rightfully so, she doesn't work!). They were also ragging on One for getting in trouble when his mama found out he has a tattoo.

Two had calamari for the first time (he had never heard of it before). His impression? Not a fan: "You can taste the soil, Bitch!"

Two suggests To Three that he get a tutor. He had a Spanish tutor and for a year he got to "look at that and Mmmm!"

Three: "you do your homework, it doesn't matter how much you smoke [weed]"

One usually smokes weed at his dad's house (which, ironically, he later states that he needs to dress nicely when he goes to his dad's).

High school is definitely full of young adults trying to act like full-grown adults. Most of us are lucky enough to get to "practice" being adults (driving a car, working a little bit) while still reaping the benefits of our parent's security. When you're 16, all you want to be is an adult. I look back on that now, and the situation One, Two, and Three sound like they're in, and wish I could have appreciated it more - because I was fortunate enough to be in a secure situation.

Big Red

On my way to the BART station this afternoon, I saw someone I haven't seen in 11 years waiting at a Muni stop. I am positive this was the same Nick I knew in the dorms (plus I heard his voice and instantly recognized it). You don't misplace a 6'2" 250 lb redhead who looks exactly the same. "Big Red" lived on the third floor of the dorms (the party floor) and was widely known as the dorm drug dealer. I distinctly remember sitting in the Common Room debating him on the merits of GHB (he was a big fan of taking it himself; I found just the thought of it awful, especially after I watched my roommate take 48 hrs to recover after it was slipped in her drink at a frat party (turn down Jungle Juice)!

Fast forward 11 years: he's wearing a suit and working in San Francisco. Despite his inability to "just say no," he was really good at math. I hope he's successful now and has outgrown his drug phase.

Wise guy

On my way home, there was a homeless man and his dog (a super cute boxer) standing outside the Embarcadero BART station. Something caught the dog by surprise and it yipped. Right then, another homeless man turned to me and said, "was that his dog or his ex wife?"

Jeez, after rereading this post, it sounds like a really corny Reader's Digest joke.

A Beginner's Guide to BART: Parking edition

I find that people who've never or rarely use BART are often a little nervous when about to embark on a BART voyage. Here are some tips.

Before you go:
1. Visit www.bart.gov
Use the trip finder application to figure out which stations are closest to your departure and destination. You can look up directions to the station and then from your station to your destination. You also can input the desired departure or arrival time and it will tell you which line to take and at what time it departs.

2. If you can help it, try to avoid line transfers your first time. I still check out and miss my transfers (it happened last week). It's a lot less stressful if you know how long your trip will take and use that to guage when you are getting close.

3. Give yourself a good buffer every time. Your first time, if you plan on driving there and parking, I recommend you plan on arriving at least 20-30 minutes ahead of time. During commute hours, parking can take forever (I one time spent 25 minutes looking for parking at the North Berkeley station only to end up parking half a mile away). Once you get comfortable with the trip, you can lessen it to ten minutes prior. Take it from me, there's really nothing quite like sprinting across the parking lot to watch your train pull away.

4. The parking lot or structure....watch yourself and your car!! People either drive like bats out of Hell or clueless 15 year olds during driver's training. People who are late will scream down the aisles and will only hesitate when they see the fear in your eyes as they're running you over. They will tailgate you as you search for a spot. On the flipside, if you're late, you will inevitably be stuck behind the person who stops in the middle of the aisle to drop someone off or has stopped, gripping the steering wheel in fear, because they just realized they're headed the wrong direction down the lane.

5. If you are physically able, I strongly recommend taking the stairs in the parking structures. Anyone can access elevators in the parking structures, which sometimes results in homeless people spending the night in there. You risk encountering anything from a bad smell to urine. Admittedly, the El Cerrito del Norte BART station's elevator isn't usually that bad (or so I hear, I usually opt for the stairs). Plus it's good for you to take the stairs. Little bit of exercise plus no urine = win-win.

Claustophobia

I'm claustrophobic. Usually this becomes aparent in caves, on narrow winding staircases (a climb to the top of the Duomo in Florence immediately comes to mind), in attics, on bunk beds (yeah, bunk beds!). It is one reason I really dislike crowds. At 5'3", most people are taller than me, so in a crowd I feel compressed in all directions.

I've actually been really proud of myself in regards to BART (half the stations are underground!). A few years ago, I would sit in silence in the transbay tunnel quitely hoping the tunnel would not collapse (nobody said phobias were logical). Now, I'm on it five days a week!

Today, I was not so good. I don't know if the picture does it justice, but the train was PACKED.

Inhale...2..3..4...Exhale...2...3...4

Fashion Find

I soooo wish I had a chance to snap a picture of this guy wearing his red camo poncho (yep, that's a poncho and not a jacket) before he took it off. Use your imagination and imagine it paired with the matching red camo backpack, hot pink beanie, and oversized headphones - quite the outfit!

P.S. That little girl in the white hoodie and red jacket was SO cute.  She had these awesome little barrettes at the end of her braids that swooshed every time she turned her head.

Latest BPP

My vent: I have a new BART pet peeve: You're on a packed-to-the-brim 5 pm train. You're standing in the center aisle, stacked like sardines with 30 strangers. The new flood of people from the Embarcadero station start loading onto the train and one of them (or two or three) decides he or she wants to stand in the center of the center aisle, so (s)he starts shimmying through the sardines. We all end up smashed against each other, all cheeks touching, or almost sitting on some stranger's lap - all because some A-hole decided they didn't like to stand by the door.

Unless, of course, you plan on jumping on the ceiling handrails and using them as monkey bars. Then I'd welcome the entertainment.

A Look into the Life on the Other Side

Every day I'm learning new things about BART by standing instead of sitting. For example, last week, I learned that I have to pay better attention while standing, because I can no longer see the station signs and  then I miss my transfer!

Today, I learned all about the life of a man in a completely different life situation than me. To set the scene: he was 70 years old and had a lollipop in his mouth.  He wore a black baseball cap from a fishing store, a Comcast Cable jacket, pink Batik button-up shirt, light khaki camo cargo pants, black leather dress shoes, a very large crucifix on a chain, and a medical bracelet (the type they scan when you're in the hospital). We walked onto the BART train at the same time and he offered me a seat. I told him I preferred to stand, so he took the seat. His worn and red over sized suitcase sat between us. Since we had exchanged words, he took it as a sign that we were buddies. So, what the hey! - we started a conversation. Here is what I learned from the El Cerrito del Norte station to MacArthur station (my transfer):

• He had a 70 year old radio in his suitcase. He found it at a shop for $5 ("what a steal!") and bought it right up. He plans on selling it for a profit.  In fact, he has high aspirations with this entrepreneurial endeavor and has a garage full of "gems" to sell.  Unfortunately, he still hasn't sold anything yet. 
• He liked the radio so much because it reminded him of a radio he used to have. He lived in a nice  neighborhood with a big house that overlooked the City.  They had a kerosene radio and a kerosene refrigerator (is it just me or does the concept of kerosene appliances not really jive with the concept of "nice" neighborhood?).  Both appliances plugged into a huge kerosene tank in the middle of the living room (again, where's the "nice"?). One day, he was barbequing in the backyard when the house went up in flames (the kerosene refrigerator caught on fire). And that's how he lost his house.
• From there, he went in to talk about how now he lives in a new neighborhood. He described the neighborhood in many words - suffice to say it is poor. But he wanted to make clear the fact that he doesn't drink or smoke dope....anymore. He used to [gives me a meaningful look and rubs his nose] which gave him five holes in his stomach and one in his hip (Okay, now I'm confused.  I can understand coke giving you stomach problems, but your hip?  I asked him if that meant he was shot and he looked at me like I was crazy.  Ha!).  Which is why he's now on disability.  Also, did he mention that he gets Social Security because he's 70?  Back to the holes in his body... he states that he almost died twice (once during the surgery for his hip, once during the surgery for the stomach).  The worst part was waking up in the hospital at 6 am so they could put gauze in the holes.  They'd explain the whole procedure to him, as if he didn't have a clue, even though he went to med school (Ha!).  Then, once he was home, he had a woman (nurse) come over three times a day to change the gauze.  At first, she was just coming once a day, but she was a nice lady - a hard worker with two kids - so he paid her to come over three times a day.  All his neighbors would look at him and say "now, what exactly is she being paid to do [second meaningful look]?" but he would assure them that she was only there to shove cotton in his holes and not "to do that" because he's a good, religious man. 
• Which segwayed to his the topic he was most passionate about - church.  When he was a young man, he was in a lot of trouble, did drugs and even was "in the pen."  In jail, he began reading the bible and realized he was on the road to [points to ground].    He found out that God is forgiving and decided to set his life straight (at which point I got a total of three words into the conversation, which was "good for you!").   His new church sounds HUGE and has seven buses to bring people to seven different simultaneous services on the weekends.  This past weekend, they even put on a free carnival for kids.  The man who leads the church used to be "in the pen" but set his life straight and now travels around the world giving out bibles and other gifts.  But never begging for money.  He loves his church and you can tell it's his family. 

At the MacArthur station, we parted ways - me on the train to San Francisco and him on the train to Lafayette (which he likes because it's so rich - he gets to see Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Mercedes, Cadillacs.... every day).  To be honest, I don't know what in his story was true and what was fiction (med school?).  But
I do know that he was a very nice man and super friendly (he knew quite a few of the BART passengers) and he seemed pretty happy.  I think he viewed me as nice, yet a little naive (he asked me if I knew what "disabled" and a certain racial slur meant,. ha!).  I definitely got a kick out of talk to him. 

Doink Doink!

This morning, there was an arrest outside my work.  I was sitting at my desk when just after 8 am I heard a big thud then a short police siren.  I bolted to the window to see a man face up on the ground and three cops leaning over him.  One of the cops was in plain clothes.  The guy on the ground was completely still and there was a minute where I was trying to process whether or not I was looking at a dead body or an unconscious man.  Then, another car pulled over for a total of four cop cars!  The cops were pointing towards a building down the street and the undercover cop was doing a lot of talking.  They cuffed the suspect, put on the blue gloves and searched him, and put him in the back of one of the police cars.  Then they all drove off, and just like that, it was quiet again.  My bet's on drug bust.

Very Law & Order!

YEAH BOOYIEE!

Dear Commuter,
I wanted to thank you for adding enterainment to my morning commute. Thank you for playing your rap music out loud on your phone's speaker and still wearing your headphones, even though they weren't plugged in. Thank you for sticking your tongue out and fiddling with your tongue ring. Thank you for the Cal spirit (Go Bears!). Thank you for the pom pom on top of your beanie. And lastly, thank you for the oversized gold watch, which reminded me of Flavor Flav. You made my morning!

Love,
Life on BART

Back to Nature

This picture has two purposes:

1) to showcase the latest trend on BART, which is people wearing their barefoot running shoes for everyday life. I've heard good things about these shoes, so I'm not making fun of them, but they're still new and funny-looking enough to grab my attention when someone in business attire is walking around in them.

2) to showcase that it's just not the seats on BART that are gross and germy. Look at that carpet, blech!

Slanguage

There were three guys sitting behind me on BART this morning talking about their weekend.  I could only understand about 15% of what they were saying, so I got on Urban Dictionary (which can be a very risky measure) to translate.  Here were some of their pearls of wisdom:

• "Hella" (used in almost every sentence)*

Hella
(adj):
Originated from the streets of San Francisco in the Hunters Point neighborhood. It is commonly used in place of "really" or "very" when describing something

* I didn't really have to look this one up, as I used this term throughout middle and high schools. 

• "That chick's a chesire"

chesire

(n):
1. One who mimics others for social attention or personal benfit
2. One who is deceitful in their use of style theft from another individual for sake of social attention or benefit
3. One who robs ideas from another to further themself in social ranking and/or status
4. a social parasite

• "I'm gonna be his hype man next weekend"

hype man

(n):

1. The person who helps gets the crowd hyped/amped/pumped before/durin a show*

2. That guy at a rap concert standing next to the rapper you came to see who yells every other word loudly when you just want to hear the damn rapper. He usually does it so the rapper doesn't run out of breath, but it really just pisses you off.

 

*I love the use of "durin"

• "Sometimes you gotta fly in the rain"

This statement came after talking about taking some pill (Ecstacy?) on Saturday. 

• "Is that shit for real? That shit smells like sage.  I think I f---in' discovered some shit."

I figured this one out on my own.

• (sung) "I stay fresh [derogatory word], I stay dope"

Not only do I now have to stand, but it can't be near the door....

From:

http://www.bart.gov/news/articles/2011/news20110310.aspx

 

03.10.2011

 

How riders can help prevent electronic device thefts - which are relatively rare but rising

BART riders can help prevent crime by taking to heart some simple advice from BART Police: Avoid being an easy target of criminals on the hunt for electronic devices such as mobile phones, portable music players, laptop computers or e-readers. BART Police are urging greater rider awareness with thefts of electronic devices on the rise, often in the "grab-and-dash" pattern and especially for high-value devices.

 

 The Top 4 most frequently stolen electronic devices on BART are:

• No. 1: Mobile phones (by far the most frequently stolen is iPhone, followed by BlackBerry)
• No. 2: Portable music players (iPod Touch in particular)
• No. 3: Laptop computers
• No. 4: E-readers (such as Kindle)

In 2009, there were 88 device thefts reported. That number spiked to 166 in 2010, and the increase appears to be continuing, BART Police Lt. Andy Alkire said.  “We want riders to be aware,” Alkire said. Device thefts – in fact, crimes against persons in general – are rare on BART, relative to the number of riders. (There were fewer than 2 crimes against persons per million trips in the most recent quarter for which statistics (.pdf) have been reported.)  "While overall these crimes are still relatively rare, that doesn’t matter if you’re the one whose iPad is ripped off," Alkire said. "We don’t want any of our customers to be victims, which is why we want to remind everyone to take simple precautions."

In the typical pattern, users sit or stand right by a door on the train, engrossed in their devices, playing Angry Birds, watching videos or answering emails.  At a stop, just a split second before the door closes, the thief grabs the device and dashes out the door.

What can you do to minimize being a victim, or to help others?
The first and most important thing is not to use a device sitting or standing right by the door. As much as you may think you are paying attention, it’s easy to become distracted and give a thief a chance to snatch a device right out of your hands.

And – even if you are inclined to be a good Samaritan – it’s best not to hand over your phone to a stranger, even if that nice-looking person says they “just need to make a quick call to get a ride.”  (It’s a common ruse to grab your phone and run.)

While it might seem like a good idea to chase after a suspect, BART Police instead recommend that victims and witnesses instead report the crime immediately, either by notifying the first BART employee they see (train operator via intercom, station agent in station), or by calling BART Police. (It’s recommended that you program the BART Police number into your mobile phone. That number is 1-877-679-7000. For emergencies, call 911.)

If you observe a theft, please consider taking the time to stay behind and help with the investigation as the victim files a report. BART Police can use your help in providing a description of the circumstances and the suspect. Try to recall in as much detail as possible what the person was wearing, their appearance or any distinguishing characteristics.

If you have the serial number of a stolen device, that information can be entered into a statewide Automated Property System to help with the investigation. In addition, some makers of electronic devices, including Apple, provide services that assist in making stolen devices unusable or less usable and thus less valuable on the underground market. Contact your device maker to find out more.

TIPS TO AVOID BECOMING A VICTIM
Here are more tips on how to avoid becoming a victim. These are included on a bookmark-type handout that BART Police are giving out to riders on trains, in an effort to increase awareness.

• Register your device if possible
• Keep a detailed description of your phone that includes serial number, color and make
• Password-protect your phone
• Don’t lend your phone to strangers
• Don’t play devices too loudly
• Don’t use your phone near train doors when boarding trains
• Don’t use the phone while leaving the station
• Warn your travel companions to protect their phones, too
• Make phones calls discreetly to avoid the attention of would-be thieves
• If your device is stolen, please report it by calling BART Police toll-free at 1-877-679-7000. For emergencies, call 911.

For more information, visit the BART Police section of this website.

Two Terrifying BART articles

Something I've always suspected:
http://www.baycitizen.org/transportation/story/bart-seats-bacteria-blossom/2/

May I never experience this one:
http://www.baycitizen.org/columns/scott-james/last-seats-another-bart-gross-out-1/

How is this okay?

Here is my attempt to capture video of one of my biggest Bart Pet Peeves (BPP): people who play their music on the speaker of their iPhone instead of through headphones (like the majority of us considerate folks). I've heard everything from rap/hip hop to mariachi to heavy metal (come on, couldn't they at least play me some Jack Johnson?). This guy was sitting there with his hood and a pair of sunglasses on. The loud heavy metal did not jive with his hungover look.

Life on Muni

Some background: this afternoon I had physical therapy.  I usually leave the PT's office somewhere between 5:10-5:25 pm, so I never quite know if I missed the bus (Muni), which takes me to the BART station.  If I miss it, I usually just walk to BART, since it's all downhill (though you won't catch me walking TO PT).

Anyway... I got out of PT at 5:05 pm, walked to the bus stop shelter, and peered around the side to look at the ticker and see how long it was until the next bus.  As I peered around the corner, I was met with a large amount of marijuana smoke and a big smiling face.

If you've spent much time in San Francisco lately (or even watched coverage of the World Series), you will have undoubtedly smelled the distinct aroma of marijuana while walking around (and it's not just restricted to The Haight - we smell it all the time coming in the window at work from the street below - in the Financial District!)  An (obviously) homeless guy was sitting on the bus stop smoking marijuana.

Okay, back to the homeless man!  He looks up at me and asks me, in the kindest way, "Hey!  Would you like a hit."  I politely smiled at him and tell him "oh, no thanks."  He then looks at me and says, "whatcha looking for? the time?"  I then explained to him that I was just checking to see how long until the bus came and that if it was a while I'd just walk.  He looked at me with a big smile and said "Are you SURE you don't want some of this?"  Again, I said "no thanks" and told him to have a nice evening.

Without condoning the smoking of marijuana, I would like to say I was touched by his generosity (cue the eye rolling :)  It could easily have been very creepy or annoying to me.  But he was SO friendly and happy (and yes, mellow...).  There's no doubt in my mind he was homeless.  Here's a guy, who likely doesn't have much in his life, much less a roof over his head, and he was so excited to share something he very obviously enjoyed with a complete stranger.  

It's kinda like me sharing chocolate with the person sitting next to me on BART.

Thanks for the Monday morning laugh

This morning, while waiting for the SF BART train to arrive, a girl wearing headphones was waiting on the platform next to me. All of a sudden she bust out into The Robot.

I'm not letting her do my highlights

Here's another beauty school student on BART.  This time, I got a kick out of her brushing the mannequin head's hair for about fifteen minutes!  In the second picture, you can see the multicolor do.

New Skills

On the way home tonight on BART, I walked onto the train and immediately was hit by a terrible smell. This happens occasionally. For instance, for a few weeks last summer, I avoided a specific car on the Richmond line because it reeked of fish (fun times!)

Anyway...as I turned to find a seat, I found out where the smell was coming from. A very large homeless man was slumped across two BART seats, completely passed out. His head was resting on his chest with his mouth open. Trailing down his jacket from his mouth was a line of puke. (Sorry folks, no pictures this time, my gag reflex is too weak to withstand that)

About 10 of us registered the smell and scene at the same time and immediately began pushing our way down the aisle for the farthest seat possible.

An aside: being pushy on BART is a unique thing. It's nowhere near as agressive as a mosh pit, but it sure lacks politeness. Commuting definitely brings out the rudeness in people. In just eight months, I've experienced countless duffel bags to the head, elbows to the side, and (my personal favorite) hip checks by ample-bottomed women. Now, I should take a moment to confess that I am not above such antics. Nothing annoys me more than when someone stands on the left side of the escalator (which is reserved for walkers) during peak commute times and doesn't move even when you can see and hear the train approaching. Then, inevitably, he/she will casually glance over his/her shoulder and notice the two protruding blood vessels starting to throb in my forehead. And not move. I've actually missed BART trains because of this and it took every ounce of restraint to not scream "MOVE, Numbnuts!!". As a result, I've become skilled at maneuvering through crowds and around people to get onto a train (once I'm on the train, I don't normally care where I sit or stand).

Except for tonight. I REALLY cared where I sat/stood. Thanks to my slinky skills, I totally scored a far seat.

If he can do it, so can I

I was standing behind this guy in line today. This made me laugh - his backpack had a name tag with "Greg" written on it. I have often thought about doing this for Mike, since he has a tendency to leave [often expensive] jackets everywhere. He's on his 3rd or 4th Carhartt now.

Quiet

The 5:30 am trains are very quiet.

In case you've wondered why I haven't been posting lately, here's a visual for you. I've been taking the early train (5:30 am) so I can go to the gym before work. Every morning when I leave, I say goodbye to Mike. After I tell him what time it is (he always asks) he always says, without fail (and jokingly), "5:30?! What's the matter with you!"

Bubbles

Today on the walk from lunch to the office, my coworkers and I noticed a homeless man from afar. He was holding something to his mouth and puffing. I initially assumed he was smoking something. As we got closer, I could see that he was blowing bubbles. As we got even closer still, I could see that he was very content in his current activity. He was so happy to be sitting there, puffing away and not paying any attention to those walking past him. Perhaps the funniest thing about the scene was that the bubble solution he was holding was wrapped in a dirty sock.
It was a little gross (the sock, the smell), a liitle bizarre (he had a stash of empty peanut butter jars surrounding him), and a little endearing.

Modesty

This post comes to you secondhand, but don't worry, it's from a reliable source :)

Every city has its share of homeless people, and Berkeley is no exception. In fact, many congregate around the Downtown Berkeley BART station to panhandle. Yesterday, Mike was waiting at the bus stop next to the BART station. All of a sudden, one homeless woman grabs her stomach and starts running towards the bus stop bench. In a great deal of drama, she pulls down her pants, sits on the bench and begins to pee ( as if it was a toilet)! In broad daylight. Surrounded by people (though I doubt anyone was still sitting on the bench).

And this, my friends, is why I will never again sit on a bench at a bus stop.

Glad I wasn't carrying around a wad of 100s like I usually do

On the escalator into the Montgomery BART station, I could hear a boy selling chocolate bars at the bottom. Since I'm on my way to the airport to go to Phoenix for a long weekend (Go Ducks!), I decided to buy three bars - one for me, Mike, and his cousin Christopher. This is actually a tradition of mine. Every time I'm at an airport awaiting a departing flight, i buy a candy bar. This used to be a special treat for me, as I rarely flew and was also very restrictive with my intake of sweets. Chocolate is now an important part of my daily diet (it goes air, water, then chocolate), so it's not really a special treat, but I'm not one to break tradition.

Ok... Now back to the salesboy. I pulled out my smallest bill, a ten, and asked for three bars and change. He looked into his box, counted the number of remaining bars (seven) looked up at me and said "can you buy five?" Surprised (and impressed) by his forwardness, I feigned shock and said, "you want me to buy five?!". He then looked up at me with big eyes through Harry Potter glasses and a meek smile and said "Please?".

And now I am ten dollars poorer but five candy bars richer.

I'm such a sucker :)

Drama in the FD

On my walk home from work to the Montgomery BART station, FOUR full-size fire trucks came from three different directions and converged at the corner I was waiting on. All the firemen got out of the trucks and started scanning the top of the building across the street. There were no cop cars (yet?) or ambulences on the scene. No smoke or fire alarms. No SWAT team (thank goodness or I may have needed a change of underwear!). This all screamed "We've got a jumper" and as soon as the crosswalk light turned green, I was out of there. I know, where's my sense of adventure? Curiosity? I'll tell you what, I naturally run low on both and I did not have any desire to stick around and watch the potential outcome. I wonder if the Financial District, much like the Golden Gate Bridge, has it's share of suicide attempts, with its super-tall buildings?

And that was that

As we pulled up to the El Cerrito Plaza station today and the doors opened, I could hear the station agent calling over the loudspeaker: "Officers, could you please apprehend the two men trying to take this track.". My best guess is they were trying to jump the corrals.

Then the train doors closed and we were on our merry way.

I was *this close* to a good BART story.

Yeats

On BART yesterday morning, a 30-something man in business attire was standing up and reading "The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats." This is certainly a diversion from the SF Chronicle and Wall Street Journal I see most men reading on BART (seriously). Because I forgot my headphones and book, I kept an eye on him. Over the course of 15 minutes, he never turned the page! He also would look up often and as people exited the train (he was standing by the door), he would slightly shift his book so that the cover faced the exit.

That's a new pick-up technique! I'm sad to say (for his sake) that no one approached him to comment on his good taste in poetry.

I was really hoping someone would!