BART blues.

Yesterday, I was on our 'suburban rail' known as BART, Bay Area Rapid Transit, en route to an appt. downtown when, as I was about to off-board, I noticed that a male passenger was pleasuring himself at the expense of a seemingly unaware female passenger. I had actually clocked the guy when he first boarded the train and thought, Kook alert! He'd moved past me down the train car, so it was 'out of sight, out of mind' until I stood up to leave. He and the unsuspecting woman were near the exit farthest from me, so I made up my mind to walk past him while saying a firm, 'Excuse me!' in hopes of breaking up the activity. It worked and he moved out of the aisle, standing now directly behind the row of seats where the woman was sat. He was looking away when I then gestured to her to come over. She did and I whispered, 'I wanted to let you know that that man was masturbating behind you.' And I asked her if she were off-boarding at the next stop (as I was). She said she wasn't and I told her to take care before exiting the train. 

I was headed for the escalator when I remembered to pop my head back into the carriage in order to take note of its number. As I stuck my head in one door, creepo left the train from another door. Undeterred, I sought out a BART agent to, at least, give him or her a physical description of the icky dude in case he were out traveling on another train line seeking a repeat performance, shall we say. 

I left the BART station feeling somewhat unsettled about what had occurred and I wondered if there could have been a better way to handle the situation. I mean I still would have definitely sought to break up the activity, but should I have then called BART police whose job it is to patrol both stations and trains on the look out for illicit behavior? I called the BART customer service line in order to ask what might have been the best response in this type of situation. The person with whom I spoke thought it might have been best to call BART police directly and skip notifying the station agent straight away. I thanked her for her time and went to my appointment. 

Later that afternoon, I hopped back on BART headed home. This particular train, bound for the San Francisco airport, was only partially full and those who were on it were sat with large pieces of luggage presumably making their to the terminals. The car I was riding in smelled of fecal matter. No one on board looked as if they were sitting in soiled clothing, so I figured the person in question may have off-boarded, but his stench hadn't yet dissipated. I stood against an empty bike rack by one of two sets of exit doors. Two rather glum-looking tourists sat very near me. I figured they must be tired, given their expressions. However, at one point a young woman got on the train and tried to sit in a seat just in front of the two travelers. The woman traveler said rather sharply to her, 'Don't sit there' while pointing to the floor. I followed her gaze and saw three large-ish bits of poo of indeterminate origin on the floor near the open seat. 

I was back on the phone with BART customer service in a flash. The same woman who had assisted me before answered the phone. I said with forced cheer, 'Hi, it's me again!' and told her the situation. She said she'd have a cleaning crew sent out ASAP. I thanked her, again, and ended the call with a 'Talk to you later!' Har-har. 

I don't know about you, but if I'm not laughing, I'm crying.

I will leave you with a photo of the lovely Powder Puff Polka...a-wunnerful, a-wunnerful: