You know what's worse than late BART trains and increasing transit fares? The douchebags riding those trains. Unfortunately, there's nothing to be done about those passengers who shamelessly clip their nails, pass gas, and pick their nose. And even if you aren't one of those idiots who gives themselves a pedicure en route to Powell Street, everyone on BART hates you anyway, and this is why:
You pee/poop on our seats:
In case your mother hadn't told you, BART is not your personal potty, which means shitting and pissing on the escalators, floors, seats, and ticket machines is a no-no. If you can't hold it, then poop in your own pants, that's what your underwear is for.
You take up two seats with your crap while the rest of us stand:
Look, I don't want to sit next to you any more than you want to sit next to me, but I also don't want to stand. So move your Trader Joe's bags and your exercise ball or whatever the hell it is you feel entitled to bring on the train and give me that seat. And stop giving me dirty looks.
You talk too much:
Hang up the damn phone and stop yammering on about your stupid boss and organic groceries. Nobody cares and nobody on BART wants to hear your one-sided conversation, especially with that voice. That's what texting is for. Unless of course you are having a raging argument with your partner; then feel free to keep sharing that entertainment with us -- it's not like I can concentrate on my book now.
You cut in line while the rest of us wait like adults for a train:
Do you see that line of people queued up by the tracks? Those people are waiting for the next train just like you are, except they've done the BART equivalent of taking a number. Everyone can see you lingering on the sidelines acting like you aren't waiting for the next train, and when the train arrives, everyone can also see you hop the line and be the first to grab whatever seats remain. But here's the deal: You didn't work any harder that day than the rest of us, and you sure as hell don't want to get home any faster. So get at the back of the line where you belong.
After you cut in line, you refuse to make space for everyone else:
What the hell is wrong with you? You are not entitled to your own cubicle on BART. Move back, and then keep moving so the rest of us who didn't cut in line can get on the train we've been standing around waiting for. Nobody is asking you to be all Emily Post about it, just make room for the herd.
You smell like ass:
Everyone complains about how disgusting BART is, but have you ever considered that it's not BART, it's you. Maybe you don't know it, or, worse, maybe you just don't care, but the rest of us can smell you and we do care as long as we're being packed inside that train where breathable space is as plentiful as BART seats during rush hour.