Howdy.

I've begun a blog. Welcome to it.

This maiden-voyage post is a retelling of an experience I had last week on BART--the train I ride to and from work in San Francisco every day.

I was on my way home. I've made a habit of getting some reading done on my twice-daily train ride, which is somewhere aroudn twenty minutes each way. On this particular day I was reading The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell, which, incidentally, is terrific; you should get it and read it. I finished the chapter I was on with one stop to go, so I closed the book and looked around at the other people on the train.

I've spent a lot of time looking around at other people trains, but this time it caused a problem. A big black man (not reggae, just tall) saw me, and called me on it.

"Whatchou lookin' at?" he asked.
I apologized.
"You staring at me?"
No, I'm not, I'm sorry.
"You staring at me?"
I apologized again. He raised his voice.
"You better not be staring at me..."

He was yelling now.
It became obvious pretty quickly that he was not altogether... all together. I decided it was in my best interest to look out the window, so I did that while he yelled all the way from Lake Merritt to the Fruitvale station. He had a lot to say, and he covered a lot of ground: he covered my race, my height, my supposed sexual orientation, etc. and didn't show any signs of stopping.

I was pretty close to the door of the train, but the man was well planted between me and it and I didn't really want to push my luck. When the trained stopped, I squeezed through an entire aisle crowded with people to get to the door on the other end of the car to get off. The man didn't stop yelling as I walked away. I'm not entirely sure he noticed that I'd left.

Possible morals to the story:
1. Everybody gets to ride the train, including crazy people.
2. Train cars have two doors.
3. Always carry a book on the train, even if it's a placebo.
4. Don't look at people, ever.