We’re leaving Walnut Creek and the BART starts to slow down. Then, it stops and the conductor comes on the loudspeaker and says “Don’t worry. We will start moving again in just a moment.” Ugh.
The lights go off. The air goes off. That hum you always hear goes off. Does my BART train have to reboot?
That would be fine but the guy two rows ahead of me sitting in the seats that face you who is also nodding out, comes to. “Why are we stopping?”
He asks this in a nervous, anxious voice.
I tell him, “I don’t know.”
He stands up and starts saying “No! No! No!” He looks out the window at cars going by, looks at the dark train car again then back at me, and asks, “Are you the devil? Are you here now? Can we make a deal again?”
In my head, I’m thinking, again!
Do I go along with a drug addict’s delusion and pretend to be the devil or do I try to calm him down?
And then I remember, I have a pocket full of glitter and rhinestones. I brought it to throw at a friend’s wedding a few weeks ago. Then I put it in my jeans left pocket to throw for a ceremony at a rehab. I was just on stage in Walnut Creek and used some there.
I still have a small handful of glitter left.
I fixed my eyes on the man, stood up, and said, “I am the opposite of the devil…” as I threw a handful of the chunky glitter in the air between us.
He stumbles back a few feet, mouth open and eyes very wide unable to speak. Just then, the train comes back on, too. He falls back into the seat he was just sitting in less than 20 seconds ago and promptly nods out again.
I left the train car in case he woke again. You can only pull that sort of pocket miracle off once in a lifetime.
