this is transit. this is transitory.

I'm (im)patiently waiting for the next train. I've no iPod to flood my ears. It's just me this time. I stare down the middle rail as it starts to rattle. Thank god, its coming; What an agonizing fifteen minute interval. Just forty more minutes, i'll reach my car & i'll go home to something, anything, whatever. I clutch the headset of my bike in anxiousness. Looking into the pitch black distance of the tunnel ahead, i suddenly see the familiar two big bright headlights like the piercing eyes of a snake. I hear the shrill beeping, warning of train arrival to whoever is standing a bit too close into that brightly padded, bumpy yellow divide. It's approaching at an alarming rate. As it passes to line up for passenger loading, the wind gently brushes the side of my face & carries the stench of piss homelessness, marijuana & aging copper. It wont be long now. The train has come to a complete stop. I carry my bike thru the shutter doors & help myself to the seat with the support guard rails, ironically intended for the handicap. Fuck it, there's none on this ride anyway. The shutter doors of all the cars close in sync. My eyes sweep to survey the front to back of this train car. To my affirmation, no one is smiling. I rarely see more than two or three people smiling, laughing or even talking here, not including myself or whoever may have accompanied me in past endeavors. But it's as if i just walked into a long, narrow waiting room of an ICU. But maybe my judgment is rash. It is kinda late. maybe they're just all tired or mad that they haven't reached their destinations yet. The train starts to move. I'm caught off balance as i underestimate the haste of the take-off. I get up to reposition myself. Hopefully no one saw. I quickly raise my head to line my eyes to glance over everyone. Nothing. Everyone is still blank, expressionless, apathetic, sleepy. This train's more noisy than usual. Maybe they oughtta grease the rails. The sharp sound of echoed electron movement between the bottom of the train & the rails is almost unbearable. "My goodness, this (train) is loud," I hear from a woman behind me, who takes her headphones off & drops her bottom jaw to relieve ear pressure. You lucky bitch. At least YOU'VE got an iPod. I lean myself against the guard rail in disgust & try to sleep thru the rest of this awful train ride.. I can't do it. I pull out my phone to try & txt someone. Just my luck, dead. Dead like the rest of the temporary inhabitants of this train. This is the worst bart ride ever. Five more stops. Some girl from a couple rows down stands up & sits next parallel to me. Gauges, beanie, flannel. Comadre punk QT for sure. "Nice bike!" she exclaims. I reply, "thu-Aanks."I can't believe my voice cracked that high. She doesn't either. She covers her mouth to muffle her giggles. "Where are you from?" she asks. "An unincorporated area kinda by Richmond." I always give that answer to strangers, assuming they really don't know the area i live, exactly. I ask, "How about you?" She replies "berekeley." Three more stops. As the conversation sprawls in different directions, i start to jump to the conclusion that this is the best bart ride ever. & i wouldn't mind it if there were even seven more stops ahead. "Now approaching the Ashby station," says the conductor over the intercom. The girl gets up & says "Well, this is my stop." She kisses me on the forehead & says "See ya around, hopefully." I'm in awe of this moment. I want to say something, but i can't for some reason. Twenty seconds go by & i havent moved my mouth from this smiling phase. I come down from the aesthetic high & then realize that i didn't get her number, or myspace, or facebook & that all i have to rely on seeing her again is chance. This is the worst bart ride ever.