A seat on the train

Yesterday I received my first pregnancy-related seat on BART. And no, it was not chivalrously offered to me by a handsome and attentive gentleman. But so optimistic of you to think that way!

First, some scene-setting is warranted. The train was outrageously full, for reasons unknown to me, because BART rarely shares. With me, at least. Perhaps I am not a good listener? So, yes, the train was short, but I’m not sure that was enough to trigger such a crowd. Anyway... very full train, packed in like sardines.

Please also know that I am perfectly happy to stand for my ride. I am as physically capable as ever of standing.

So there we are, jammed in, all akin to small salted fish, and my co-worker jokes that she needs to hold onto something because she wouldn’t want to fall on the pregnant lady.

And THEN. Nosey McNoserson wheels her nosey nose around and asks me, “Are you pregnant?!!!????!!!!”

“Oh, yes, but not very.”

“You need to sit down!!!!!!!”

“No, really, I’m fine. I’m really not very pregnant at all.”

“It doesn’t matter!!!”

At this point, she hauls a young man up out of the seats reserved for the elderly and the disabled (which includes the pregnant), and tells him, “This lady is pregnant!!!!! She needs to sit down!!!!”

I continue to object, but then Nosey grabs me by the arm, manhandles me through the crowd, and throws me into the now-empty seat.

I sit. It seems like the safer path at this point.

Nosey’s friend is now on board with the endeavor and announces that she works for the federal government and those seats are for pregnant ladies and it doesn’t matter how many weeks pregnant and those are the RULES.

Then Nosey scolds me, “You could faint. My sister fainted a lot when she was pregnant. And that wouldn’t be fun for any of us.”

Obviously, I did not apologize for my flagrant attempt to inconvenience her with my potential fainting.