Late night Thursday night Bart ride

After wrenching my ankle and falling straight into a gutter on 16th Street thanks to a jacked up span of concrete by the Esta Noche alley, I labor down the 16th & Mission Bart stairwell fixed on getting my ticket and back to the east bay to ice the purpled ankle. It takes forever to hobble down to the platform since, well, of course the escalators that aren't going up are broke down.

I catch the first train that arrives and stake out a double seat for elevating the swollen foot. Under the glow of those sickly bright new train flourescent lights I can see that my knee is ripped up and my entire left foot has doubled in size. All I can think is, shit, I hope no one wants to sit across from me or I will start crying once this foot hits the ground. The train fills up and I guess the pathetic teary eyes keep everyone from sitting across from me, or maybe it's the huge purple exposed foot occupying that seat.

At Embarcadero a mess of people pile into the train and somewhere in their mass I can hear breakbeat leaking out of someone's earphones. It grows louder and louder as a bouncing young man finds the seat next to me. Gradually he starts to nod his head and and tap his hands on his thigh mouthing the words until the song fades out. He reaches into his backpack and picks out a different cd and apparently one of his favorite albums or something because now he is bouncing on the seat and matching the movments of his torso to the beat. With the midsong climax, his hands elevate, fingers stretching to reach the beat and then return to earth as the song mellows and continues. I stifle a laugh and glance around at the older white couple looking a bit terrified and the man across from bouncing breakbeat boy who is trying to look bored and to look away but is totally not succeeding.

In desperate need of a glowstick, breakbeat boy is forming boxes and whirlpools with his hands, studying his moves in the reflection of the window turned mirror with the night's darkness. Then he reaches his arms up to the ceiling and stays entirely still for about five seconds before he breaks out the automaton style jerking his neck and hands and legs to the beat, all this with him still solidly settled in the seat.

The train pulls into Lake Merritt station which means time to be hit with waves of pain in the adventure of hobbling across the platform to transfer to the Richmond line. Breakbeat boy offboards next to me and I am wishing he will transfer onto the same car so I can be distracted and amused for half an hour more, but instead he dances away, singing up the stairwell towards the exit until he is out of view.