Duck and cover, boys and girls, 'cause I'm here to tell you that we are in TROUBLE. Especially those of us in the San Francisco Bay Area. (Or if you really want a good scare, calculate the odds that a variation on my little yarn took place in half the major metropolitan areas in the country.)
Since starting this blog, I've been carefully avoiding topics like Homeland Security and the War on Terror. There have been so many other issues to rant about, and maybe I was easing myself into Saving America. But after a recent experience, the gloves are off. I learned a valuable lesson: When it comes to keeping ourselves safe, we are on our own.
Earlier this week, I was taking BART home from the Oakland airport,[1] along with The Significant Other. At the Fruitvale station, a couple of people who’d been sitting near us got off the train – and left a package behind. Now, I realize this package was probably the leftovers of someone’s lunch. But since September 12, 2001, every authority figure in the Western Hemisphere has been telling us to report suspicious packages. After a moment or two of debate,[2] we decided to be Responsible Citizens.
Pleas note, America, that according to BART’s website and the many posters and flyers I’ve seen around the stations over the last seven-plus years, when a Responsible Citizen sees a suspicious package on a train, she is to “use the intercom located at the end of the car to call the Train Operator.” So that’s what I did.
And the intrepid Train Operator calmly instructed me to bring him the package.
Whaaaa?
Since starting this blog, I've been carefully avoiding topics like Homeland Security and the War on Terror. There have been so many other issues to rant about, and maybe I was easing myself into Saving America. But after a recent experience, the gloves are off. I learned a valuable lesson: When it comes to keeping ourselves safe, we are on our own.
Earlier this week, I was taking BART home from the Oakland airport,[1] along with The Significant Other. At the Fruitvale station, a couple of people who’d been sitting near us got off the train – and left a package behind. Now, I realize this package was probably the leftovers of someone’s lunch. But since September 12, 2001, every authority figure in the Western Hemisphere has been telling us to report suspicious packages. After a moment or two of debate,[2] we decided to be Responsible Citizens.
Pleas note, America, that according to BART’s website and the many posters and flyers I’ve seen around the stations over the last seven-plus years, when a Responsible Citizen sees a suspicious package on a train, she is to “use the intercom located at the end of the car to call the Train Operator.” So that’s what I did.
And the intrepid Train Operator calmly instructed me to bring him the package.
Whaaaa?
Um, see, I was thinking that this package could be a bomb, or a chemical weapon, or leftover egg salad, so no way was I going to touch it. I relayed this decision to the Train Operator, who told me to return to my seat.
Although my seat was a little closer to the Egg Salad Bomb that I would have liked, I assumed that a police officer would soon be by to assess the situation. You see, BART has proudly reported that the “BART Police have increased patrols inside stations and on trains” and are “working with many outside agencies on security drills and the latest detection devices for various chemical or biological agents.” I was in the hands of trained security professionals.
No one had come to investigate by the time we reached our stop half an hour later. Thinking the Train Operator was clearly irresponsible and off his rocker – and probably about to get fired – we decided we should report the bag to the BART police. The Significant Other and I walked straight to the crummy little trailer that serves as the police station and knocked on the door. And knocked. Then we freakin’ banged on the door. NO ONE WAS THERE. This was not in the dead of the night, folks. It was a little after 7 p.m. The police were AWOL.
Next stop: station agent. (Again, I refer the interested reader to BART’s “Safety and Security” page.) In response to our polite yet concerned report, the station agent replied that the bag would be checked when the train reached its final stop in Richmond. Richmond is about 17 miles from Fruitvale, and the train takes about 32 minutes to get from one to the other. The way I see it, that’s plenty of time to explode, or inhale sarin gas, or any number of other things way worse than the typical ride from Oakland on public transportation.
Fortunately, the station agent offered us comment cards. I felt much safer.
Now keep in mind, folks, that I was ignored by the Train Operator, the police, AND the station agent – all while the Homeland Security Advisory System was at Orange, or “High.” Apparently “High” means gettin’ stoned while driving a train and not givin’ a sh*t about packages left on the train. Great. So what happens at Threat Level Red? Everybody who’s supposed to be watchin’ my back does a bunch of uppers?[3]
But seriously, the Department of Homeland Security tells me that “All Americans should continue to be vigilant, take notice of their surroundings, and report suspicious items or activities to local authorities immediately.”
I DID THAT! AND NOBODY DID A GD THING ABOUT IT!!!!
Now, I do not actually believe that the little purple bag left on my train was anything dangerous. But if I were intent on terrorizing Bay Area commuters, one step in my evil, evil plan would be to execute a dry run, just to see – oh, I don’t know – whether anyone reported the package, whether the authorities did anything about the report, how long their response took… assuming there was a response.
The moral of the story, my friends, is that no one has your back. No one is driving this train. If you see something suspicious, something potentially dangerous, save yourself -- because no one else will.
Although my seat was a little closer to the Egg Salad Bomb that I would have liked, I assumed that a police officer would soon be by to assess the situation. You see, BART has proudly reported that the “BART Police have increased patrols inside stations and on trains” and are “working with many outside agencies on security drills and the latest detection devices for various chemical or biological agents.” I was in the hands of trained security professionals.
No one had come to investigate by the time we reached our stop half an hour later. Thinking the Train Operator was clearly irresponsible and off his rocker – and probably about to get fired – we decided we should report the bag to the BART police. The Significant Other and I walked straight to the crummy little trailer that serves as the police station and knocked on the door. And knocked. Then we freakin’ banged on the door. NO ONE WAS THERE. This was not in the dead of the night, folks. It was a little after 7 p.m. The police were AWOL.
Next stop: station agent. (Again, I refer the interested reader to BART’s “Safety and Security” page.) In response to our polite yet concerned report, the station agent replied that the bag would be checked when the train reached its final stop in Richmond. Richmond is about 17 miles from Fruitvale, and the train takes about 32 minutes to get from one to the other. The way I see it, that’s plenty of time to explode, or inhale sarin gas, or any number of other things way worse than the typical ride from Oakland on public transportation.
Fortunately, the station agent offered us comment cards. I felt much safer.
Now keep in mind, folks, that I was ignored by the Train Operator, the police, AND the station agent – all while the Homeland Security Advisory System was at Orange, or “High.” Apparently “High” means gettin’ stoned while driving a train and not givin’ a sh*t about packages left on the train. Great. So what happens at Threat Level Red? Everybody who’s supposed to be watchin’ my back does a bunch of uppers?[3]
But seriously, the Department of Homeland Security tells me that “All Americans should continue to be vigilant, take notice of their surroundings, and report suspicious items or activities to local authorities immediately.”
I DID THAT! AND NOBODY DID A GD THING ABOUT IT!!!!
Now, I do not actually believe that the little purple bag left on my train was anything dangerous. But if I were intent on terrorizing Bay Area commuters, one step in my evil, evil plan would be to execute a dry run, just to see – oh, I don’t know – whether anyone reported the package, whether the authorities did anything about the report, how long their response took… assuming there was a response.
The moral of the story, my friends, is that no one has your back. No one is driving this train. If you see something suspicious, something potentially dangerous, save yourself -- because no one else will.
[1] Because I’d been in three different airports that day, many PA announcements had informed me that the threat level was, in fact, Orange. Turns out that the threat level was Orange only in the airports. Elsewhere it was Yellow. But "Threat Level Orange" sounds cooler, so that's what I'm going with.
[2] It went something like this: “Hey, look, somebody left that bag.” “Hm. Should we do something about that?” “I dunno. I’m pretty sure that’s just somebody’s lunch.” “Yeah, but what if it’s not?” “Hm. Did you get a look at the people who left it?” “Not really. ….” “I guess we should tell somebody. They do have all those signs around the stations telling us to report these things.” “Yeah, okay.”
[3] Actually, that might be preferable. At least then the POLICE would be awake.
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