What I’ve learned of life riding BART
If you truly want to experience life, BART is a good place for it. For example, you’ll meet the con-man who asks for precise and exact amounts of money every few weeks. “Good morning all. I need $89 and 27 cents to save my son — I would appreciate anything you can help with. Thank you, thank you, God bless.”
“Didn’t you ask for $137 and 25 cents last time?,” asks an exasperated regular rider, and the con-man does a bunk, trying his luck in the next train compartment.
Then there is the prattler who takes care of his business on the phone, and sometimes annoys people especially when it is long-running or loud.
I am one of the thousands of people who ride BART regularly. I look around to see people from different backgrounds, different religions, different ideologies, different skin tones, different economic levels there, all rubbing shoulders. We all say our sorries and our don’t worries good-humoredly when the train stops unexpectedly and we all bump into each other.
On these trains and station platforms, I have been transported to small villages in Africa, felt sorry for people living in war-torn regions, listened to the lilting tones of foreign languages, seen and heard people share stories about Egyptian mummies, talked to erudite people who share a drop of their wisdom on the way.
I have also edged away discreetly from people who are stone drunk at 8 a.m. and rarin’ for a fight. I’ve seen people injecting themselves with drugs. I have seen police officers go about their grim duties of ensuring a safe transit with a smile on their faces.
I have talked to people who were wondering whether they will be able to afford health care, laughed with pregnant mothers, and then congratulated them months later as I’m shown the baby’s pictures.
I have listened to loud music — music that I otherwise might not have listened to — because some quirky character decided that what the world wanted that day was music of his choosing. I like the street musicians on the underground stations singing to a seemingly uninterested audience. But I have noticed a little spring in peoples’ steps as they near the musicians, and a slight smile even as they move away.
I may not know people’s names, I definitely do not remember every interaction, but as I started writing, I realize that there is so much that I have absorbed about life — just by riding public transit.
I was doubly pleased to see BART tweet out in response to President Trump’s ban on immigration that everyone is welcome on Bart.
Beauty in diversity and unity in adversity seems like a good slogan in these times.
Thank you, BART.