Fracas on the F train on a Saturday Afternoon
This is a story about a scary altercation between two huge strong men on the F train — yes that scenic line, ideal for tourists, lovers and leisure seekers.
Dave and I hopped on the F train on Market and 5th at about 4 pm this last Saturday and were immediately enveloped by the smell of urine. Seat checks seemed to indicate everything was dry and we counted ourselves lucky assuming that was the worst of it. Then this very tall, angry and crazy homeless man walked up from the back of the bus straight to this small young woman sitting on one of the single seats and grunted for her to move. She did so immediately, going straight to the seat facing the driver. She was probably about 4 feet tall, Asian-American, 15 years old or so, listening to her iPod quietly, nice as can be. But then Crazy man proceeded to stare at her and yell out that she should move to the back of the bus, among other crazy and angry remarks, leading up to just calling her b***** several times, in a loud and angry manner. No one did a thing. The middle-aged tourist couple sitting in front of us continued to consult their maps. And so the girl did all she could do, and rang the bell, and got off at the next stop. How the bus driver didn’t seem to notice was dumbfounding.
But that’s when things got really ugly. Crazy man must have been looking around for other people to pick on, when I heard the big guy behind me say, “What are you looking at, ugly?” This started a booming shouting match, which could have been amusing if we were not sitting next to the center of the hullabaloo. But it went something like this:
“You call me ugly?”
“Yes you dumb dumb stop looking at me.”
“Maddafakka!” (note Crazy man had a very thick Caribbean accent.)
“Stop looking at me or I’ll straighten you out you scum bag.”
“Why you call me Maddafakka?” (Demented point #1)
“Turn around you nasty. Mind your own business.”
“Why are you picking on me.” (Demented point #2)
“You turn around and stop causing trouble.”
I was heading home Friday afternoon from a very fruitful jaunt to Thrift Town. I entered the 16th St. Mission BART station, and was delighted to discover a good-looking guy playing some kind of rock music solo on his cello. I’m a sucker for rock cello, so I leaned against a wall near him to listen.
