The Bay Area Rapid Transit (BART) runs throughout the East Bay, SF, and to SFO, from where I fly out of quite often. Each one-way trip to the airport, or coming home from the airport takes roughly 75-90 minutes - emphasis on roughly, since these trains have nowhere near the smoothness of European or Chinese train/metro systems. But I digress.
It was a Thursday evening and I'd landed at SFO and got on a 10-car train towards home. By the time the trains get into SF proper, the cars start filling up, and during rush hour, every seat is taken and then more people come on board to stand in aisles and hold onto rails or the hand-holds above them. In general, sometimes people talk with fellow travelers, most stare at their smart phones, some sip their drinks or snack, but it's not unusual to see people fall asleep either. I've heard some very impressive snores above the din of the jostling train cars and electric hubbub.
This night, a woman in her early 30's sat down next to me. Professional, blue or gray eyes that took in everything, and rings on two fingers of each hand. She wore a navy blue pantsuit and placed a leather satchel by her feet next to my own bag. We exchanged nods, 'hellos,' and brief smiles and we both leaned back in our seats.
The train departed, people got on/off at each stop through Embarcadero, and then the train started the rhythmic cacophony through the Transbay Tube under the San Francisco Bay, speeding towards Oakland. I was lulled into the "Bart-zone" from the car swaying and the wall of sound inside the tunnel and I felt my eyes get heavier, but then I blinked in surprise when I felt the woman's head hit my shoulders. I held myself still and waited to see when she would move away, but I felt her further cuddle into my side and shoulder.
So be it.
I let myself fall back into the "Bart-zone" and relaxed. The temperature in the train car was cool, but our combined body heat made me feel much warmer, but comfortable. I became aware of a man sitting facing me from several seats away. He made eye contact, grinned lasciviously, and gave me a thumbs up in her direction. Ah yes, this is why we can't have nice things. I kept my face still, my eyes locked on his, with the phrase "keep it in your pants" repeated in my head until he looked away. She's not here for your entertainment, "Bro."
When the car slowed and stopped at the West Oakland station, she raised her head a moment, looked around, stared at me for three seconds (long enough for me to register that her eyes were more blue than gray), then put her head back down on my shoulder. She was out again before the doors closed and started towards Berkeley. At each station, she woke, looked around, put her head on my shoulder, cuddled into my side, and slept: 12th Street, 19th Street, MacArthur, Rockridge. Once we were halfway through the Berkeley hills tunnel, she sat up straight, yawned, then stretched her arms high above her. As the train slowed towards the Orinda station, she gathered her satchel onto her lap and looked at me again. I smiled lazily, still zoning and several stops from my own departure, and she smiled wide at me. The train stopped and as she stood up she squeezed my shoulder. I waved goodbye to her.
When I got off the train in Walnut Creek, I could smell the scent of her hair on my suit coat.
As a first public cuddle, I have zero complaints other than the horn-dog voyeur.