I take the Bart or Muni at least 6 times a week and I usually end up with funny stories. Two to share with you...
The first was on Bart from 16th & Mission to the Montgomery St exit. I was running a bit late but the Bart showed up just as I hit the platform and I quickly grabbed a seat. I had my mp3 player cranked and was happy to get to my appointment...I was going to be close to getting there on time.
At the Civic Center stop, a woman got on the train and started freaking out...
"Somebody left a bag on this train. Stop the train. Don't let it go anywhere. We need the police. Get the police."
So, I am now straddled with 2 thoughts: Fuck, the train is going to explode; Damn, this is going to make me later for my meeting.
"Ma'am, that is somebodies fast food bag. It isn't a bomb. It is McDonald's."
"I don't care what you think. They can make a bomb look like a food bag. POLICE! POLICE! Don't let this train go anywhere."
"Ma'am, I am an undercover BART agent. It is a food bag."
Now I am only left with being disturbed that I am going to be late!
At this point the gentleman displays his badge and collects the trash. He still has to notify the train operator and they have to waive off the police. We wait. We wait. We wait.
Once the train begins to move again, the woman decides to communicate to all of us in the train again, "It is better to be alive and apologize than for all of us to be dead. We are killing all their babies in Iraq; of course they want us dead."
On a ride back from Montgomery St to 16th & Mission, I had on The Chemical Brothers newest Album, Galvanize. The final track, "Surface to Air" is a long song punctated with a tick-tock effect, a steady 8th note pulse, and repetitive strains of melody and counter melody that emerge and disappear. The song just builds upon itself.
As I looked out the BART window, the trip transformed into a music video. It was beautiful...I couldn't tell if we were moving or the train across the platform was moving. People were animated, yet frozen on the other side of the window from my seat, allowing me a voyeristic view into their daily lives.
Upon exiting and heading up the long escalator, a homeless man, deranged from mental illness, drugs, or combination, was dancing in the stair well playing with imaginary butterflies. You could almost see the reflection of movement in his glossy eyes. He was entranced. His fingers danced on an imaginary keyboard and twinkled in the air above his head.
As I passed Este Noche, two homeless men danced in circles as if they had never left Woodstock. I have no idea whether there was a song for them being played, but my soundtrack powered on continued my trance.
As I turned the corner onto Valencia, a person, dressed in a green frog costume was on the payphone. This is not a normal frog costume (is there a normal frog costume?): thick green fur, one piece all the way over his head, the phone reached inside of the mouth of the frog costume, fully padded to enhance the illusion.
As my eyes lingered from side to side, it was filled with beggars, punks, hippies, hipsters, and business people all sharing the same parcel of street, making there way to whichever future was theirs. I disappeared from it all. I was invisble and merely took notes and was thrilled with the ride.
That was one of the coolest music videos I have ever seen.
