On BART

This is me pretending to be productive on BART. I’m one of the few lucky Brahmin with a seat thanks to some deft maneuvering and the fact that nobody wanted to sit next to my seat mate, who’s playing some sword and sandal game on his iPhone. Like him, being seated affords me the use of both thumbs since I’m not using one to hang on for dear life, hoping my knees don’t buckle while careening under the bay.

At some point, BART evolved into a locomotive library. Everyone is reading (iPads, Kindles, an occasional paperback — The Hunger Games seems popular here). Those who aren’t reading are staring absently at their shoes. It reminds me of silent reading in junior high — awkward and fraught, with everyone scrupulously avoiding eye contact; except for the jackass next to me who’s beaming with some virtual victory he surely wants to share.

The suit in front of me just cracked his neck so aggressively it looked like he was trying to tear off his own head. Even Hunger Games was impressed. The iPhone dungeon master missed it. Ironic since he just did the same to pixelated paladin.