BART Sightings

Something unusual is happening on BART.

Last week, at the end of a very long day, I joined the crowd on the dusty platform waiting for the train to take me home. Standing near the elevator, which makes a convenient marker mid-platform, I stared down the tunnel to see if any light was shining. As I strained to see into the dark, I became aware of an odd sort of bouncing and twirling movement to my side, with an accompanying tapping sound.

Turning to see more clearly, yet trying not to be conspicuous in my staring, I saw a young woman. Under most circumstances she would be unremarkable. Wavy, dark hair, a non-descript outfit, an aged backpack. Eyes closed and listening to a tune in her head, she was in the midst of performing an Irish jig. Arms rigid by her side, feet moving in the intricate patterns of the jig, she danced to the unheard music.

I was certain she would stop quickly, because it was obvious that the other commuters on the platform, like me, found this impromptu dance a bit unusual. Maybe it was the pack on her back, flopping up and down and looking pretty uncomfortable. Maybe it was just the incongruity of the lively dance on the platform, the absence of music loud against the crowd noise. But she danced on, oblivious to the stares of the passers-by. Then a train came, the doors opened, and she was gone.

I didn't think of it again until this morning. My train pulled into one of the above-ground stations and there, on the platform, dressed in a pale skirt with tailored jacket, was a young woman jumping rope. Without a rope. I watched her jump in a steady rhythm until the train pulled away and I couldn't see her any longer.

I'm not sure what to make of these sightings. I guess it could be boredom, or the pent-up energy that comes from sitting behind a desk all day. I wonder if it's come to this, that the only time to exercise is while waiting for a train?! Or nice to think, maybe it was joy.