This morning on BART there were plenty of open seats when I boarded at the North Berkeley station. By the time we hit Ashby the open seats were pretty well filled. I sat reading my 25 cent SF Chronicle (special rate for BART riders) when I heard, "I was there first!" A middle aged woman with long, fuzzy brown hair stared at a young woman wearing a track suit, who shouted back, "We're about to fight." Then, as quick as you'd flip a switch, the young woman who predicted a tussle said, "Okay, fine, you win," conceding the seat as easily as she'd initially escalated the dispute.
Much like a 5th grader the older white woman who'd won the right to the open seat without having to take a fist to the face repeated, "I was there first."
The other night a wayward looking man sat in the seat in front of me holding a neon fan that lights up. He stared at the spinning lights and spoke aloud to himself or to whomever might be listening, "That crazy lady gave this to me. Ain't it something. That crazy lady with the crazy hips gave me this."
I love taking the train.