This morning I woke up early to go to the dentist. This is important to my story because they numbed my mouth and I spent all morning with a sort of droopy lip that made me feel particularly unattractive. Also my mouth hurt and I was tired because I woke up at 6:45 to make it to my 8:00 appointment. Ok, here's the story:
After my appointment, I get on the BART train as usual. Everything seems fine. I drift off to sleep in my little corner of the train. And then the conductor (operator?) starts talking about delays. That isn't unusual for BART so I stay asleep. But then he starts talking about a fire on the tracks and I figure I should maybe be more aware than I usually am.
"This train is being told to turn around," the operator says. "Please exit the train at the next station and take the next train to San Francisco. There will be a train waiting for you on the other side of the station." Obediently the passengers exit the train and we walk across to the waiting train. But when we get on, we are met with a screeching voice "FREEMONT TRAIN! THIS IS NOT THE SAN FRANCISCO TRAIN." Meekly we file out of the train we just entered and back on to the windy platform. I recognize some faces on the platform. Fellow North Concord station people who have been riding with me all the way. We smile weakly as the time ticks by.
Finally a real San Francisco bound train arrives and we gratefull huddle on, grasping our laptop bags and work materials. This new train has one less car than the one we left and there are already people sitting on it, so we scramble for seats. The train moves slowly and the operator again speaks of delays. I settle down and try to sleep again.
"This train is being told to turn around," the operator says. "Please exit at the next station and wait for the next train." Instead of groans and grumbles and infectious giggle begins. No one can believe that this can be happening. I catch the eyes of my fellow North Concordians. We know the drill. We've been on the train for more than an hour now. We shuffle off onto another blustery platform, this one more crowded than the last. We clutch our belongings to us, afraid to lose something in the shuffle. A train arrives, this one shorter than the last and already packed with people. It's like musical chairs for tired angry adults. We push in as many people as we can, but some are left behind in West Oakland. We watch them on the platform as we depart, glad that we made it this time.
"This train is being told to turn around," the operator says. "Please exit at the next station. If you are going farther than the next station..." And in the long silence that follows that statement a man on the train says "You're on your own." In fact we are instructed to once again wait for the next train. I am just two stations from my stop, but the train will go no farther. We flood out on to the platform, tired, ragged, giddy with exhaustion. I catch the eye of a woman who has been with me since North Concord and say "Maybe I should just walk to work." But I don't. I wait and get on to my last train of the day. My fellow refugees and I are tired. We were forced off of our home train, given the leftover seats of other BART lines, left to stand in an overcrowded car. We had been traveling for 2 hours and 20 minutes.
It turns out someone set fire to a controller box or something, thus destroying all chances of me getting to work on time. Now see here you BART destroyer, you. You ruined my morning. So I hope you feel great guilt for what you've done. I hope you too feel my pain. I hope you think twice before you set fire to BART property again!
I'm glad to be home. I'm glad to be in bed and listening to my cat snore. I'm glad I have a day off tomorrow.
Goodnight all. That post was too long. Sorry about that.
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