November 4th 11:39pm - Accompaniment to BART

Last year I accompanied (and by accompanied I mean chauffeured) a friend of mine and his cousin to the BART station. Cousin’s voyage: BART to airport, then airline home. I ceased my transportation responsibility in close proximity of the underground and the boys exited laden with luggage. I reclined the seat and settled back to await my friend’s return. I fiddled with my phone and fumbled with the radio. I glanced in the rearview mirror and observed a gawky man rapidly walking along the sidewalk towards my car. I remained in the driver’s seat while he loomed on the opposite side. Normally I am tremendously deficient in the whole detect-suspicious-character game (I blame my appalling eyesight), but this man justly depicted the crazy destitute. He slouched, elevating only his glittering eyes, ogling in my car. His stride dawdled as he neared. I stared into the rearview mirror, body facing forward, eyes back. Upon reaching my car’s trunk, he exploded, as if at a track meet when the gunshot signals the race’s launch. Arms propelling body, he rocketed to the passenger side door next to me. I screamed, effectively deafening myself, and hurled my body to the opposite door, hand clamping down on the lock as he simultaneously grasped the door handle. The lock clicked as he heaved at the handle. I jerked back to my seat and screamed again, some bizarre collection of unintelligible sounds; I’m sure further impairing my ear capability. The Man glowered in the window. I glared. One last effort at the (thank God) secured door, and he thrust himself away, streaking down the sidewalk, limbs flailing. My friend returned to my car to find me wild-eyed and garbled. His first words: “What the hell happened to you? I was only gone five minutes.”