| Monday, December 04, 2006 |
| Steven Spielberg is on the BART |
I'm standing on the BART platform, waiting for the train, when a 50-ish guy in a Raiders cap sidles up to me. "Isn't that Steven Spielberg?" he asks. I look at him, then back down at the San Francisco Chronicle Sunday magazine I was reading. The photograph accompanying the story depicts a young Asian man. I point at the picture. "Him?" I ask, confused. "No, over there." He points to a man a few feet down on the platform. He does look a lot like the director -- salt and pepper hair, wire-frame glasses. "There's no way Steven Spielberg would ride the BART," I respond.
"Maybe he's going to the Raiders game," the guy says matter-of-factly, as if any sane person would ride public transit to the stadium, even if he could afford to travel by gold-plated stretch limousine.
"He's a billionaire," I tell him. "He wouldn't ride BART."
The guy shrugs and steps away. I look back at "Steven," who is standing with a middle-aged woman with lank, strawberry-blonde hair. I'm pretty certain Steven Spielberg is married to an actress, and Hollywood actresses are glamorous. This woman looks like Berkeley, not Beverly Hills.
The train arrives and I sit directly behind "Steven" and his female companion. I decide it'll be interesting to eavesdrop on them. Will they talk about movies? The car is filled with boisterous Raiders fans. "Steven" and friend do not speak; they stare straight ahead.
At MacArthur station, everyone traveling to San Francisco has to transfer to a different train; the Raiders fans stay put. I get off the train. So do "Steven" and the strawberry blonde. I have lost interest in them. I step further down the platform, and yet we wind up getting on the same car again. I sit down and immediately smell something horrible. It smells like really horrible B.O., and it must be something lingering, as none of the people around me seem to be the cause of the odor. I am about to move to another seat in the car when the train conductor declares that the entire car is going to be closed, effective immediately, and everyone has to move to the next car. As I pass him, I hear "Steven" talk; his voice is oddly high-pitched. I've heard the director interviewed in the bonus features of DVDs, and he doesn't sound anything like him.
The next car is full and I have to stand, wedged next to a baby carriage. I imagine having a billion dollars and know that I would never, ever take BART again. I would have a car and driver, and would be dropped off right by the door. Walking through San Francisco would be OK if it weren't for the panhandlers, who talk to me when I'm trying to be invisible; yesterday, one told me to smile, and a few days ago, when I was hurrying to make it somewhere by 8 PM, a guy selling the Street Sheet said you don't need to be in such a hurry! and I kept going, but I wanted to turn around and scream, you don't know who I am and where I'm going! What gives you the right to say that to me? I will never give a dime to anyone who tells me to smile or to slow down.
This morning, I open the newspaper and there's a photo of Steven Spielberg. He was in Washington, D.C. last night, accepting an award at the Kennedy Center. |
posted by 125records @ 10:55 AM  |
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| 5 Comments: |
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"This morning, I open the newspaper and there's a photo of Steven Spielberg. He was in Washington, D.C. last night, accepting an award at the Kennedy Center."
That's what they want you to believe. Has anyone ever seen the "Spielberg" in DC and the man you saw on the BART together? No? I rest my case.
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Wow, that was a really strange dream, Sue. Especially the part where they close down the car because of the smell.
zjdfb! zjdfb!
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I don't know why they closed down the BART car - it may not have been because of the smell. Who knows? And I'm not sure if you're joking, but it wasn't a dream, it's all 100% true...
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You write it like it's a dream. The present tense, and the affecting tangential meander/rant about the beggars addressing you; you set a dreamy tone. And the stinky car sounds like something in a dream.
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FWIW, strangers and aquaintances have been telling me "C'mon, smile, it's not that bad!" all my life. It's annoying, presumptuous, and judgmental.
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"This morning, I open the newspaper and there's a photo of Steven Spielberg. He was in Washington, D.C. last night, accepting an award at the Kennedy Center."
That's what they want you to believe. Has anyone ever seen the "Spielberg" in DC and the man you saw on the BART together? No? I rest my case.