I got off the bus at MacArthur BART. I crossed the street, passed the incense man and panhandlers, and up the escalator. The Bay Point train was due in three minutes. Perfect.
"Platform is closed!"
A BART agent walked around. "Everyone get off this platform NOW! Medical emergency!" We looked at each other. I knew what many were thinking. About Oscar Grant, and wounds that hadn't healed.
Downstairs I dug out my phone and put it in my pocket. If something was about to happen, I would take notes. A woman took out a notebook. Others called home. We stood around like kids after a fire drill, waiting to hear what to do next.
Whatever was up, I prayed it was minor. I know! A woman in labor! Let it be something joyous, something beautiful.